Opaque
by WerewolvesAreReal
Summary: Impervious to the rays of light; Obscure; not clear; unintelligible. As only living heir, Harry is demanded by is great-grandfather to be sent to the past for family history and training. Four years can do a lot. Rated for swearing & violence, no slash. UP FOR ADOPTION.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:I do not own Harry Potter. I do not claim to own it. All unoriginal characters are property of J.K Rowling.

Opaque

Prologue

Silence.

The stillness, the complete and utter lack of movement, was somehow more intimidating than any other factor of the room. More frightening, somehow, than the green flames-green for Slytherin-which flickered and danced in torches and swept eerie shadows around the room. More unnerving than the large snake, silently watching the procession with an almost satisfied gleam in its eyes. More scary, more hair-rising, just more _worse _than anything else, was the silence.

The cloaked figures stood, waiting quietly-_respectfully-_ for their leader to speak. Yes, respect; that was it. _That _was the cause of it all. No robe twitched. No body dared shift. They were frozen, utterly still, only to be released of their self-induced paralysis upon His entrance. This respect-and the fear that accompanied it, the fear it symbolized, the fear it _must _have come with-was what made this silence so horrific. It was not something one consciously would think, upon seeing the scene, but the hairs on the back of their neck would rise, oh yes. And a shiver would travel down their spine, feeling like ice, and though they would not think it they would _know._

And miles away, so far but still so close, a hooded figure watched this… and he laughed. His laugh, had the cloaked figures hear it, would have made them tremble. Because they knew what a cruel laugh was; and this was certainly that. They had thought no one could be worse than their master.

They were wrong.

July 7th. He would later reflect upon that day, not long after he left. Why the 7th? Was there something special about that day? They _did _say seven was the most magical number. He would decide, yes, that was it; it was appropriate the beginning of the reshaping of the magical world would begin on the seventh.

Harry Potter awoke on July seventh still feeling weary, and for good reason; it was, after all, not even two in the morning. He blinked a few times, grimacing at the clock, and wondered why he had woken at such a time. The sound of tapping at the window answered that, though. He moved out of his bed lethargically, stumbling a little as his head cleared. He opened the window and an odd looking owl flew in. It was huge, pure white, and had purple eyes. Hedwig looked a little interested, but the owl flew off as soon as Harry untied the letter. She ruffled her feathers in a disappointed way and settled back down to sleep.

Harry looked over the letter carefully. The envelope was stiff and official looking, but even had it not been the seal would have been enough to make him pause. A grey picture of Gringotts bank was on the letter.

"Why would Gringotts be writing to me?" he wondered. "And so early!" Hedwig opened one eye and hooted in an irritated way that plainly told him to shut up and let her sleep. "Sorry."

He sat down on his bed and grabbed a flashlight from the floor. He shined it on the letter carefully, glanced at the door for signs of the Dursleys, and opened the letter.

_To Mr. Potter,_

_We at Gringotts bank request your presence on July 10__th__ for a discussion of your affairs. If it is to your convenience, please arrive at noon and ask for myself. If the time represents a problem, please owl to reschedule._

_Formally from,_

_Griphook Granji_

_Worker of Gringotts Wizarding Bank, London_

Harry frowned down at the letter. Was this _really _from Gringotts? Or was it from death-eaters? He pondered this for a moment, but it wouldn't make sense for it to be from death-eaters. Really, it wasn't like Griphook was going to help them kidnap Harry. Goblins wouldn't do that, no matter how much gold they may receive.

But why did it come so early? Goblins certainly weren't friendly, at least not normally, but they tried to be civil with their clients-rudeness certainly would not help them in the area of gold, and goblins were all about gold.

Hmm… Maybe there were wards around his house? He had suspected _that _for some time; with all the emphasis Dumbledore put on his safety at home, there had to be _some _kind of wards protecting Privet Drive. It would be incredibly foolish to leave the Boy-Who-Lived in a muggle area for months with absolutely no magical protection. There were ways to track people magically-if there were no wards, he'd surely be dead by now. Harry tried not to dwell much on this, considering it only served to remind him that a psycho was after his blood, and to make him think of how close he had come (repeatedly) to dying. But to be honest he thought it was pretty hard to _not _dwell on the fact. When you're locked in your room all day, there's not much to do. On the plus side, though, Hermione would be proud of him… He read all of his course books already.

The ones for his fifth year had been mailed by Dumbledore. Apparently, if he was going to the Weasley's Dumbledore thought the risk too great for him to go to Diagon Alley himself. Harry wasn't stupid- he had noticed the 'if' there. With that little hint-and the fact he had barely gotten a single letter from his friends-he was willing to bet he wouldn't be seeing the Weasleys all summer.

Oh, yes, this summer was turning out to be just great.

His thoughts were turning off subject again. Anyway, the wards might have caused the owl some problems. He had wondered about owls, too-he was a celebrity and he though it odd he had never got any letters from anyone he didn't personally know. When the _Prophet _had talked badly about Hermione the year before, she had received dozens of letters. And yet, he had never gotten one-not for his good deeds nor his bad. He had read the papers Hedwig brought it so often-the wizarding world thought him a joke.

It was probably Dumbledore's doing. Dumbledore-the man who seemed to have complete control of his life. Oh, who was he kidding- Dumbledore _did _have complete control of his life. He meddled with Harry's life so much it wasn't even funny.

But… why did he have to listen to Dumbledore? Dumbledore was just his headmaster, that was all, and as far as he knew it certainly wasn't normally for headmasters to set out plans for their pupils' summers…

_But it's Dumbledore! _A voice in his mind protested. _Dumbledore! You can't just go against him like that! Not when he's done so much for you-_

_Like what? _Harry argued with himself. _Like sending me to the Dursleys'? Like hiding the stone in a bloody _school?! _Or how about the snake, how about letting Sirius wilt away in Azkaban with no trial, how about making me participate in that damned tournament and let Voldemort capture me? Let a death-eater teach right under his nose? Dumbledore's not that great. In fact, I bet he wouldn't even notice if I left here… He wouldn't even notice, in fact, if I left right now on the Night Bus and went to Diagon Alley and waited for the tenth…_

And that was how Harry Potter came to stumble into the Leaky Cauldron at almost three in the morning to get a room. That was how his defiance of Dumbledore began. And that was the beginning of the beginning, the start of a completely new wizarding world.

**A/N:** This is just the prologue; i promise the other chapters will be longer. Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: For anyone wondering, this is _not _a Harry/Voldemort story-they're just the main characters.**

**There may be awhile before my next update- I'm going on a trip in two days sooo...**

Disclaimer:I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

Opaque

**Beating Around the Bush**

On the morning of July tenth, a wizard paced uneasily in room 117 of the Leaky Cauldron. Today was the day he, Harry Potter, was scheduled for a meeting at Gringotts.

He had no idea what to make of the letter. It had been curt, formal, and the logical part of his mind told him the meeting would just be something to do with what his parents had left him, and he would sign a few papers and maybe accept something or other they had willed him and find out his worry had been for nothing. But he had a bad feeling it wasn't going to be that simple.

On the bright side, however, he certainly was having a much better time here than in Privet Drive-and not just because of the absence of his relatives, either. He had went shopping and bought a few books to spend time reading while he was here. Two were on transfiguration-a animagi, to be more precise-and one on the history of the dark arts- a war was brewing, and he needed to know about the enemy. As for the animagus books-well, that could be useful in war, too, he told himself. He did his best to ignore that he mostly wanted to try the dangerous transformation because of his father.

He sighed, lifting a hand to run though his hair. He looked at the clock again-at least the tenth time in as many minutes- and felt relief flood through him. Eleven thirty was when he had decided on going to Gringotts, but the wait was unbearable. What was the meeting about?

He quickly turned and started for the door, then paused. Berating himself for not thinking of it earlier, he doubled back for his invisibility cloak. He shook his head ruefully as he took it from his trunk.

"I'm getting as paranoid as Mad-Eye!"

He took it anyway.

"Griphook?"

The surly-looking goblin glanced up from his paperwork, a small sneer on his face.

"Ah, Mr. Potter…" he set down the quill. "Right on time. Please come with me."

Griphook hopped off the stool he had been standing on and walked away quickly, Harry walking behind him. He was one of the shortest in his year, thanks to the Dursleys, but he suddenly felt very tall walking through all the goblins. He didn't completely like the feeling.

Harry followed Griphook for several minutes, turning so many times it was scrambling Harry's brain. How did anyone remember the way around this place? He also noted almost absently that they seemed to be going quite a long way; this would be no quiet, average discussion. He felt his unease grow.

"Here we are," Griphook stopped in front of a door and knocked. Harry stopped as well, reading the message over the door.

_**Ragnok, President **_

Okay, now he _knew _this wasn't a normal meeting. What on earth was so important about him they had to discuss with the _president _of Gringotts?

Harry hated being himself sometimes.

"Mr. Potter." The president of Gringotts said formally. He inclined his head toward Harry, who half-bowed back.

"Mr. Ragnok." He responded. Griphook gestured to a seat in front of Ragnok's desk, taking another himself, and as he sat Harry took a moment to glance around the room.

Ragnok seemed a rather ordinary goblin in regards to looks-or, at least, as ordinary as goblins were apt to get. But there was a glint in his eye, a glimmer, that bespoke of knowledge-and maybe just a bit of smugness, too. But Harry could see immediately by that gleam that in choice of leadership the goblins were not faring so bad as the wizards; there was a definite knowledge in those eyes.

The room, also, told a bit about the occupant; clean, orderly, with just a hint of grandeur with not enough to make it gaudy or flashy. Showing importance, confidence, but not arrogance. Ragnok was going to be interesting.

"Mr. Potter, I am going to put this as bluntly as possible," Ragnok said, getting straight to the point. "While your mother was of _mostly _muggle heritage, she _did _in fact have magic in her family-her great-grandfather is a very powerful and well-known wizard. As it was, however, his daughter was a squib. He decided it best to give her to a muggle family-he modified their memories so that they believed she was truly their daughter, who had died at birth. She was informed by a pre-arranged letter at eighteen."

Harry stared.

This was _not _at all what he had in mind. His mother wasn't completely muggle-born? Uggh, nothing could ever just be simple, could it? But, wait…

"Mr. Ragnok," Harry said hesitantly, "You said my grandfather _is _a very powerful wizard, so…"

"Yes, he is still alive." Ragnok told him. "But do not be angry; he has been completely unable to get to you. This will, I think, be explained soon enough. Please be patient."

Harry waited.

Ragnok took a deep breath. "You see, your grandfather was-for good reason- rather paranoid. He was _also _a rather proud pure-blood. That, along with a few other reasons, prompted the very odd task he has given us. Your grandfather left us very specific instructions, you see; he told us that should the day come when only one of his heirs remained alive, and was also unknowing of their blood, his request for us should be enacted. If they were young, it would occur sometime before their fifteenth birthday. If older, just as soon as possible. Your grandmother told your mother, but she never had the chance to tell you, of course."

Okay, now Ragnok was just trying to drive him nuts. "And what, exactly, did he ask you to do that's so important it required a meeting with yourself?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Well," Ragnok drawled, "It's not every day our clients are sent to the past."

Harry blinked.

"…Could you repeat that, please?"

"As I stated, your grandfather left very specific instructions. He did not want his line to die out, you see, but he especially did not want his descendants to forget the legacy of your family. He was an ingenious wizard, your grandfather." That was quite the compliment, coming from a goblin. "He made a bit of a variation of a portkey. If you agree, you will be sent back in time temporarily. You should return tomorrow, actually, though you will spend more than one day in the past…"

"Woah, now, hold on-how do you even know this is going to work? And even if it does, I can't go back! Time isn't supposed to me tampered with!" he protested desperately.

"Ah, but it would be tampering with time to _not _go back. Your grandfather gave us confirmation that a descendant of his arrived on the scheduled date."

"But-"

"Mr. Potter, there's no use arguing," Ragnok told him, not unkindly. "You _will _eventually leave-it's been proven. You will be coming back- he also told us you left back for your time no worse the wear."

"I-" Harry could see arguing was pointless. "I'm going to the past, aren't I?" he asked faintly. He had done so in third year, of course, but this wasn't just a few hours…

"Indeed you are." The damn goblin sounded very amused.

"What time?' He asked, almost automatically. He was in shock. One thought repeated again and again in his head.

_Why me?_

"1941." Griphook answered now.

And now more shock. Yippee.

"You're joking, right?" His mouth seemed to be moving of its own accord.

"Not at all. Do you have your wand?"

"Um, yes-"

"Good." And then, before it could even occur to Harry what was happening, an object was thrust into his hands. Griphook and Ragnok raised their clawed hands simultaneously. "_Practicusamus!"_

And Harry found out it was, indeed, like a portkey.

He really hated his life sometimes…

It seemed that all of his expectations were being crushed during the last few days. He supposed he needed to get used to it. Nothing was simple for Harry Potter, apparently.

Harry had not, for one thing, seen his mysterious relative right when he landed-the mysterious relative who, he realized now, the bloody goblins had never named.

The creatures were currently irking him to no end, but he had to give them one thing-they did their job to the letter. He kind of wished they didn't.

At the moment, he was currently staring at another little detail the goblins had forgotten to mention. The goblins had said his grandfather was powerful. They had said he was a pure-blood.

They had _not, _however, said that he was rich. And they definitely hadn't mentioned that he would be taken to a mansion.

At least, it _looked _like a mansion.

Kinda.

Well, okay, he didn't know _what _it looked like. The room was black, the room was huge, the room was dark, and the room was _just plain creepy. _But it _did _have a pretty grand look-it practically screamed 'money' as well. To be fair, he was doing a bit too much gawking still to be really taking anything in. Harry was still reeling. Really, it wasn't his fault. How often do people get sent to the past to speak with their great-grandparents?

Harry didn't know much about the wizarding world, but he was willing to bet it wasn't all that often.

After a few moments, he managed to calm himself (slightly) and cautiously began stepping around the room. Hadn't Ragnok said the time he had been sent here was arranged by his grandfather? Why wasn't he here? Of course, it might just be that he had given Harry some time to get over the shock. Yes, that was a definite possibility.

"Ah, so my little device _has _worked." The sudden voice made Harry spin around, hand flying to his pocket before he stopped himself. He eyed the wizard for a moment before slowly letting his hand drop.

The wizard in front of him was watching him equally as carefully. He looked about forty or so, but considering how slower wizards aged it was safe to guess he was at least fifty. He had short, curly blond hair-slightly graying- and cold blue eyes that observed him just as critically. He was lean, but not in a weak way-he certainly looked like he could pack a punch. But what put Harry most on guard was the _feel _of him; the very air around the man to hang stiffly. It was the air of power, the air of confidence, the air that induced fear.

"You are my descendant." It was not a question.

"Yes."

Harry knew that he wasn't exactly the toughest looking teen. He was shorter than most in his year, including a good portion of the girls. The Dursleys' negligence had made him rather scrawny.

"Hmm…" The man nodded, once, though more to himself than Harry. "I wonder… Please come with me."

He turned abruptly and strode through a door (black) at the end of the room. He didn't even check to see if Harry was following. This angered him a little; he had just appeared in the past! They hadn't even been introduced, and this man was expecting him to follow like a good little sheep.

He felt more irritated at himself than the man as he followed. What other choice did he have?

He followed the man to the hall, which was completely bare of pretty much anything. Not a single picture graced the wall. And, just like the other room, it was black. Needless to say, Harry was pretty uncomfortable. Just what kind of person was his grandfather, anyway? And he looked a little familiar-

_That's because he's family, idiot! _A voice in his head said. _Which means you probably see a bit of him in you every morning when you look into the mirror._

…Well, that made sense. But it seemed like something more than that…

"Sit."

Harry jumped.

They had entered this room through one of the many black doors-the one at the end of the hallway, actually. Harry was a little relieved to see that _this _room-an office, it seemed- wasn't completely black. Of course, most of the other colors were dark colors and some silver, which really wasn't all that better. His grandfather had taken a seat behind the desk. There were three in front. Harry hesitantly sat in the middle, feeling very small indeed.

Harry was pretty sure he had heard mention once that when you sat and others stood, they did so to be more intimidating and hold some power over you-or something like that, anyway. Did it still apply when his grandfather's chair was practically a throne?

"What is your name, and when are you from," his grandfather asked bluntly. Harry blinked.

"Er, I'm Harry Potter," the man's eye twitched. Did he know the Potter's, then? "and I'm from 1995."

"That soon?" the man muttered. Then, louder, "Why weren't you told of your heritage?"

"I _still _haven't been told of it, actually." snapped Harry. "You and the goblins have been talking in riddles!" the man glared and Harry gave him a dirty look before giving in grudgingly. "My parent's died when I was one," he said stiffly. "So my mother couldn't exactly tell me, now could she?" Harry, though hating the words, still always expected the automatic 'I'm sorry' given when people heard of his parent's death. He was therefore a little surprised that his grandfather didn't say so.

"What I expected," he said. "Although perhaps not that young. Hmm. What wizarding family have you lived with, then?"

"None. I went with my aunt and uncle, and they're muggles-"

"_What!"_ His voice was furious, and it stopped Harry dead in his tracks. "No Grindelwald of wizarding blood should house with _muggles…_"

Harry felt any breath he had leave him quickly. He took in a quick, shaky breath. "G-grindelwald?"

"Of course," the man snapped, distracted.

"_Gellert _Grindelwald?"

Grindelwald now seemed to realize the name was having some effect on his descendant. "Yes," he said, eyeing Harry warily.

"_The _Gellert Grindelwald? Longest-lasting dark lord in history? The Gellert Grindelwald rumored to be supporting _Hitler_?"

"Well, to be fair that's just a rumor," he said, smirking a little now as he saw his grandson was panicking. "It's rather disgusting of him, really-at least there's a _reason _to my doings, but he's just a madman. But if the wizarding world is distracted between us two, well... it's making it much easier for me." He watched Harry with amusement.

"_Why _do these things always happened to _me_?" he moaned. "I _can't _be your grandson, I'm on _Dumbledore's _side…"

Grindelwald suddenly did not look so amused.

"Dumbledore?" he hissed, eyes flashing. He leapt up from his seat, and Harry shrank down in his own. Grindelwald opened his mouth furiously.

Then, he paused.

Grindelwald turned his head to look at him, slowly, thoughtfully… dangerously. Yes, there was strong anger in his eyes, and Harry was afraid it just might be aimed at him.

Before he could react, Grindelwald had thrust a wand at him.

"_Stupefy!"_

**1995, July tenth, Gringotts Wizarding Bank**

Griphook stared at the place where Harry had disappeared from in a thoughtful manner.

"Sir, do you think we should have allowed him to get his trunk?"

"If we gave him more time to think about it, he would have panicked and tried to escape," Ragnok pointed out. "And he has his wand-his other things will not be of much use, anyway- he can't risk bringing future items to the past."

"I suppose that makes sense," Griphook agreed.

There was a short silence.

"…Do you think we should have mentioned he'll be in the past for four years?"

"He'll figure it out soon enough."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! I was on a trip for five days, definitely didn't want to write the day i came back, and haven't really found much time since. The next chapter should come quicker than this one did. **

**Also, I hope I'm taking a good direction with this chapter; I hate stories where changes in characters are so abrupt. Please review!**

**Disclaimer;I do not in any way own Harry Potter. If i did, i wouldn't be writing Harry Potter fics on fanfiction.**

Chapter 3

Mind-Magic…. Or is it?

When Harry awoke, he was more than a little confused.

He panicked at first, for a moment, unable to move, not knowing where he was but only that he was most definitely _not _at the Dursleys' and almost certainly somewhere he shouldn't be. A small, panicked part of his mind screamed that he'd been kidnapped by Death-Eaters.

A few moments later, however, as his memory came back, he recalled a bit of the evening before. He relaxed a little as he realized he wasn't captured by Death-Eaters, but not much.

_From one dark lord to another, _he thought bitterly. The question was… which was worse?

He was, currently, tied and bound quite firmly. Where… well, where he had absolutely no idea. All he could see was darkness, but that wasn't all that helpful, in terms of location. He was probably in one of the room of the mansion or manor or whatever the hell it was he had arrived in; the rooms were all so dark he probably wouldn't even be able to see a thing during day, much less night, which he suspected this was.

"You're awake." Lights appeared.

A shudder went through him at the unexpected voice; one part of him jumping immediately just as another part resisted the urge to show shock. A soft chuckle from his captor showed he had hid nothing.

"My heir, a supporter of Dumbledore." Oddly his voice held no anger, no disappointment. He sounded merely thoughtful. "But by choice or trickery, I wonder?"

"Choice," said Harry, managing to find his voice. His heart thudded rapidly in his chest. He braced himself for the curse or hex which would surely come.

But, nothing did- Grindelwald ignored him.

"Trickery, I would imagine," he continued, as though Harry were not there at all. "Through trickery or choice, each is the same."

"Yes, that makes _perfect _sense, thanks for clearing that up for me!" Harry snapped, then immediately regretted it as Grindelwald's eyes flickered to him. But he did not avert his gaze; surely he was already in trouble for this.

Again, no curse came. "Ah, but it soon will," he said softly. Without warning, his wand was out again.

"_Laxe!"_

Harry gasped for breath, a strangled, choked sound forcing its way from his throat. It felt like someone had taken sandpaper and decided to scrub the inside of his skull with it-not only very painful, but also somehow just more awkward than anything he had ever felt.

In a second, it was over.

He panted for a moment, shaking, still feeling the ghost-effects as he recalled the pain. He was trembling a little, Harry realized. He swallowed shakily and met his captor's eyes.

Grindelwald was smiling. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Trickery," he said, voice soft. "That is how you are his, as I thought. You were bound, child- compelled to follow not only Albus' word, but also the morals he decided should guide you. He molded your entire being."

Harry was still breathing deeply, but he glared at the man. "And, what, am I supposed to see the light, now that the spells are gone?" he mocked. He burned with rage at what the man had said, for he somehow knew it was truth. But, that could wait.

"Or the dark, should I say?" he asked, still just as sarcastically. "Shall I suddenly find I forgive the cause of my parents death, forget the dark had tried to kill me?" He looked at his grandfather mock-thoughtfully, knowing his jibes were dangerous but not able to care. Again, Grindelwald merely smiled.

"I would be disappointed if you had," he told Harry. "Because _that _would show you were under the imperius curse, instead of compulsions. I would be truly ashamed if my heir could not fight a simple imperius!" He smirked a little as Harry glowered.

"Calm, child." He chided. "I'll leave you now, but I want you to think carefully about your life. Without those compulsions, I think things will be a little more clear." And then he turned and left.

Able to see, now, Harry glanced around the room with forced interest, trying not to look too deep into what his grandfather had said. But there was nothing in the room that could catch his interest, so he gave up. And then he followed the advice of his grandfather. He thought.

And, after doing some thinking, it turned to ranting in his head.

Finally, with effort, he managed to calm himself to an extent, taking great, shuddering breaths while doing so.

He was a little angry.

Well, yes, little might be exaggerating.

Okay then, scratch that; he was furious.

At who? Well, that was the toughest thing to answer… mainly because the list was so long. Because while he most certainly did _not _suddenly agree with Voldemort and his Death-Eaters, he suddenly _also _found himself disagreeing with Dumbledore. And that was what troubled him the most.

This troubled him because, if he suddenly disagreed with Dumbledore, it meant that Grindelwald, a dark lord who he knew would eventually have come to cause fear in the wizarding world for twenty-two years, was telling him the truth. And this truth was that the 'lightest' wizard in his time-Albus Dumbledore- had apparently put compulsions on him and made him act as Dumbledore wanted him to. He had been nothing more than a puppet the last thirteen, fourteen years of his life.

Needless to say, he was feeling a tad disturbed.

Had Grindelwald lied? Forced his own compulsions, perhaps, upon Harry? He had pondered this, briefly, but quickly came to a negative conclusion. If Grindelwald had truly wanted to do so, he would have made Harry loyal from the second he had used that spell. It would have been easy enough, and honestly he probably would have done well enough Harry wouldn't even think to wonder if compulsions had been used on him.

Like with Dumbledore.

Yes… Suddenly, with the spells canceled, he could find the flaws in Dumbledore; he could see, now, the stupidity that was there in Dumbledore's actions. But was it stupidity? Harry had, after all, went through the third-floor in first year… the chamber… the dementors… the tasks… were these all just coincidences? Fine, fine, he granted that the last probably wasn't Dumbledore's fault, and he _was _the Boy-Who-Lived-things were sure to happen around him- but people just didn't have things like this happen all the time! It was all set up. It had to be. Were his friends picked for him, as well? He suddenly felt very, very insecure

Dumbledore. It all came down to him. Voldemort would, perhaps, remain a foe-he had some things to settle with that one- but Dumbledore was now the enemy, Grindelwald was still blood, and _Grindelwald _had been the one to help him.

If nothing else, he could try to keep up a truce with his relative, and see what Grindelwald wanted him to know.

But that didn't make him dark… right?

He was going back to Hogwarts.

He was going to make it back to Hogwarts, which honestly was more than he expected. But he wouldn't be going _quite _like he had imagined. Instead, he was going to Hogwarts in 1941.

He had _expected _that he would be in the past perhaps two or three days, maybe less, a week at the most. But things never turned out like he wanted them to, now did they?

Harry had come to a sort of truce with his grandfather after the spells were taken off him. He did not like what he had heard of Grindelwald, but he also had a new enemy now-Dumbledore. He wasn't going to make another when it was unneeded.

Now, _that _was one noticeable thing about the charms Grindelwald had broken. Because the charms were compulsions and guidance spells instead of an imperius or mind-controlling, and because the spells had been cast when he was one, the personality Dumbledore had created for him had become his true one.

Mostly.

There were no drastic changes, but they were there-subtle things, but still there. He knew that he never would have had the foresight to try and get along with his relative instead of just rejecting him dumbly and immediately were he still under Dumbledore's power. He was slowly moving away from the past and forming his own thoughts and a new personality, though he knew it would be awhile-if ever-that he could shake the last remnants away and truly become himself… whatever that was.

To his surprise, Grindelwald wasn't horrible… to him, at least. Of course, that didn't mean much; he was the man's heir, something valued greatly in their world, a title made even more precious by the fact he was his _last _heir. He was invaluable. Irreplaceable. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or worried by this.

Grindelwald… Yes, he was certainly an enigma. No, it could not be said he was kind; that would be stretching it. He was cold, he was blunt, and he could be cruel. But he was not the raging, insane, bloodthirsty man the history books portrayed him as. Here was not a man with fangs dripping blood or going on murdering sprees, no crazed mad man who killed someone sooner than looking at them. Oh, he was not kind, and Harry had no doubt he was a killer. But he was no savage. When he so chose to he held intelligent, civil conversations. He ate normal food, drank normal drinks, instead of eating raw meat and drinking of blood. People knew, of course, Grindelwald was a human, but they never _saw _him as human. They saw him as a beast, a monster, an indescribable _thing _whose entity their subconscious described based upon their innermost fears; Harry's eyes had been opened, and now he was realizing all was not as it seemed.

This school year just might prove to be even harder than the last.

_The vicinity was dark and the meager light from an unknown source cast shadows over everything. This did not disturb Harry. He had spent over a month with Grindelwald in the black, famed mansion-prison that was Nurmengard. But he was used to the splendor and grandeur of the living chambers. This seemed more like the dungeons below he knew existed but had chosen to ignore; the thought sent a pang of fear through him. He had finally begun to get along-slightly-with his great-grandfather. He did not need the thin bond to snap when he saw the prisoners. He felt suitably chagrined a moment later when he realized his concern was for his family relations instead of the well-being of light wizards, but he cast away any brooding thoughts as he recognized his surroundings. This was not Nurmengard-he was in the Chamber of secrets._

_But why was he moving without meaning to? Was this a dream?_

_If so, than his dreams had become grim indeed. He watched as his body hissed the passing phrase to the statue of Slytherin, watched as the dead monster slithered out-but it wasn't dead, was it? Not here, not yet._

_He watched, a feeling of delight welling in him he could not quench, a feeling so at odds with his other feelings of alarm and worry. The body he wore-was it the body he was?-reached into a nearby bag and emptied it. His stomach churned-just a bit-as many bodies of deceased and, in cases, slightly bloody animal corpses fell upon the bone-ridden ground. There was an impossible amount, a mountain, and he realized the bag was enchanted._

"_They're mostly conjured or copied, save a few, so I don't know how they'll taste," he hissed in parseltongue, using a voice his and yet not. "I hope it will suffice."_

"_Of courssse, Young Master," the monstrous snake hissed back. Its voice hummed with contentment, and the smugness and bit of glee he felt again contradicted the sick feeling of his stomach as he watched the beast scoop up several carcasses in its great jaws._

_The body he was in turned of no direction he gave, and walked a few paces away to stare at a wall for a moment, as one might while thinking. A pale hand lifted to run through his hair. As his head bent, his eyes glanced along the floor and fixed automatically on a puddle of water. He saw, then, the reflection which was not him._

_It was Tom Riddle_

Harry woke up gasping.

Terror overtook him, for a moment, panic, as the vision-no, the _memory-_he had seen through he eyes of his rival flashed through his mind again swiftly. He knew it was not a memory-there was no way Tom Riddle was in Hogwarts now- and he wondered at the connection between them and if this would happen again.

All at once, a great weariness swept through him, and he yawned immediately as he sunk back down. He could worry later. It was early, he needed sleep, and he had to go to Hogwarts tomorrow.

He closed his eyes as he felt himself drifting back to sleep. In his grogginess as he drifted to sleep, the next thought he had did not worry him in the slightest, though it would have made him bolt upright had he been in his right mind.

_Its 1941… I'm going to Hogwarts in 1941… And Tom Riddle opened the chamber this year…_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

_Chapter 4_

_Its Official, Fate Hates Me._

"Remember- you're Henry Grendel, pure-blood son of-"

"Two people I don't remember the names of, who are children of others I will never remember the names of-"

"Do you _want _to get caught, you foolish child?" Grindelwald snapped.

They were at the station-the only ones at the station, actually. Grindelwald, not wanting to be in public and cause a riot in an area so far ignoring him, could not be spotted-especially not with 'Henry'. There were wards up so no one could over hear them, just in case. It was a quarter to ten.

"Inventing a few names won't get me caught," Harry snapped back. "Let's see; on one side, I come up with random names on the spot, no one's any the wiser, and it's completely forgotten by whomever asked for whatever reason. On the other hand, I can try to drill into my head a fake ancestry which will leave me panicking trying to remember them. Gee, wonder which is better?" With the compulsions gone, he was becoming more sarcastic and a bit more calculating. Harry was starting to understand why the hat said he should have been in Slytherin.

"Fine," his grandfather bit out. Harry inwardly smirked. Grindelwald would never admit it, but the fact he argued no farther showed he conceded to the logic in Harry's point. Harry knew it frustrated the man deeply to be outsmarted. And, of course, it also frustrated him he couldn't just throw a few hexes at the first hint of defiance and be done with it. Harry chose to ignore that part.

"Go find a good compartment," Grindelwald ordered. "Near the end of the train, preferably, for a good escape route." Harry rolled his eyes but nodded anyway. Grindelwald could probably care less what happened to Harry _Potter, _but Harry _Grindelwald…_ Well, as said before, he only had one heir.

"Love you too, Gramps," Harry quipped wryly. Hey, he was leaving; Grindelwald wasn't able to do anything now. He had no fear for stinging hexes every second of the day. He casually ducked one of the aforementioned hexes as he moved away, the ward breaking.

He settled onto the end compartment-the same one as in first year-and leaned back with closed eyes, a light smile gracing his features. He was going home.

As Harry opened his eyes, he wondered if he was in the middle of a nightmare.

He froze as it dawned on him that this was real. Tom Riddle was sitting in his compartment, reading a book, alone.

You had to be kidding.

What were the chances? He breathed in slowly, then out, then shifted a little purposefully. Riddle's eyes flickered up to him swiftly, the teen tensing.

"Hello." Said the Slytherin warily. Harry inclined his head politely. His head was stuck on the image of the basilisk.

"_Hello."_

Both Riddle and Harry froze.

Had he _really _done that? By the shocked, speechless look on Riddle's previously blank face he certainly had. But what would possess him to speak in _parseltongue, _of all things?

The basilisk-it must have been the memory of the basilisk. But whatever the reason, Riddle did not seem to care. He looked at Harry with wide eyes, looking a little more like a teenager now than the killer Harry knew him to be.

"You're a p-parseltongue, too-" Riddle's voice cut off abruptly; from what Harry knew of Voldemort, he had never been careless even when young. It must be the shock of finding another parseltongue. Unable to hide it now, Harry nodded as though this had been his intention all along.

"Yes." He did not elaborate.

Riddle paused for a moment, letting this sink in. Then, face growing cold and calculating once more, "Why did you speak to me in parseltongue? You could not have possibly known I was one as well-"

"Says who?" a flash of wariness and a bit of fear was on his face before replaced again by the mask. Yes, Tom Riddle was good at masks, Harry could already see that. But this meeting had thrown the boy off; the fear had only been visible less than a second, but he knew it would not have shown at all in different circumstances.

Harry was also starting to understand why Dumbledore liked to seem so all knowing, like he knew everything about everyone he met. Damn the man, but he had to give it to him-this was _fun!_

Riddle recovered. "Then shouldn't I have been able to sense you?" he challenged.

"Oh, you just might not recognize the feeling-come on, don't you feel the similarity?"

Riddle snorted, but Harry, watching carefully, saw the concealed flicker of interest in his eyes. Whatever time they were in made no difference-the bond may be younger here, a fledgling bond, but there _was _still a bond from his scar, and Riddle, being such a powerful wizard, could surely feel _something. _He was gambling, here, but the odds were in his favor.

"What's your name?" Riddle asked, choosing to set aside the subject. "You look like a third year, but I don't recall seeing you…"

Harry glared, bristling. "Henry Grendel. I'm a fifth year," he said icily. "I'm transferring here because of Grindelwald." His temper deflated a little as he said that, replaced by amusement. Half-truths were fun, too; he _was _here because of Grindelwald, technically, just not in the way Riddle might imagine.

The Slytherin nodded curtly, not looking the least bit apologetic. "I apologize," he said, obviously more for the sake of courtesy than anything. "I'm Tom Riddle." Harry-_Henry_- knew that, of course, but he nodded anyway. "I'm a fifth year as well." Harry could not help but notice he didn't name his house; he pondered this for a moment before deciding Riddle, with his crafty mind, did not want Harry to be influenced toward any particular house-unlike Ron, who had practically shoved Harry to Gryffindor, Riddle wanted to see where he would go without influence. His little bit of parseltongue had cost him. Parseltongue was a Slytherin trait, not the house but Slytherin _blood. _And Riddle would definitely be interested in another descendant of Slytherin.

This may be a little more difficult than he had first thought.

A rather short time later, the students in the train found themselves at the school. Ha-_Henry _was at a dilemma; considering the complexity and stakes of past problems it may not seem so large, but he was confused all the same.

Did he ride with the first years or take the carriages?

Honestly, he would hate to go with the first years; as Riddle-Tom, he had asked to be called-had pointed out, he was short. Very short, actually. That's what malnutrition does to you, and the Dursleys hadn't exactly been generous with food. Riddle's estimation that he was a third-year was actually likely just because his face was a little sharper than a first year's, which still held a little baby-fat. This made him appear a little older, but not fifteen; he bet he could pass as a tall first year easily, but he really didn't care to find out.

But, he knew it was expected of him to go with the other new students and pretend to be awed by the castle. Steeling himself, he stifled a sigh and went to the boats.

As he sat with three first-years, two immediately tried to draw him into a conversation about magical creatures. They thought he was a first-year.

Damn Dursleys.

The sorting of the first years had gone quickly and normally. The students had first payed attention, through a few sortings, but quickly grew bored. They waited with growing impatience, a few grumbling about food. They watched the last person left expectantly. Taller than the average first year-about 5'4-and slender, almost scrawny. He had messy blond hair and bright blue eyes, with a cool and masked expression. A few whispered as they noticed him, throwing glances to a suddenly curious William Potter. Though their eyes, skin tone, and hair were different they somehow still looked oddly similar, except for perhaps the fact the first year was so skinny. The last name had been a W, though; what was the first-years name? They waited, but as the child stayed and the headmaster cleared his throat they knew this would be no average sorting.

The looks of interest grew.

"Students, due to the increasing threat of Grindelwald, Mr. Henry Grendel will be joining our fifth-years." He told them. A few people blinked, suddenly a little chagrined. Fifth year? It seemed almost everybody had gotten the teen's age wrong. "I hope that you will make him welcome." He nodded to the transfer student, who took that as cue to move forward.

Henry, watching the students surreptitiously, quenched his annoyance at his height again. But he was not entirely angry; the comment about Grindelwald from Dumbledore had him fighting to keep a straight face. Oh, but the man was so trusting!

He went up to the hat, allowing his face to go through a careful range of emotion. To the students, he looked calm, and he was; he was quite sure of what house he would be in, and he knew from one of Hermione's lectures the hat could not speak of what was in the students heads. But, facing the teachers, seeing Dumbledore's speculation, he allowed a bit of apprehension show, to satisfy the man. It would make him seem more vulnerable, more human. He needed to have enough respect among the students to hopefully have few enemies, but more importnantly to have his peers accepting he would not answer all their questions. If he was open, then what he was not open with would be a source of curiosity. If he was closed, secretive, they may come to simply accept he didn't like to reveal much about himself… But, this was also a reason to be wary. The teachers, at the least, need to see a bit of this nervousness. He needed to be seen as shy hiding behind a hard mask, and hopefully they would not look into anything too much. After all, he was coming during a war.

"SLYTHERIN!"

And, besides, Dumbledore was always careful with Slytherins.

_He was dreaming again._

_Or was it dreaming, if they were not his dreams but those of another?_

_He recognized it quicker, this time, the chamber- though, this time it looked different than any room he had seen there. Tom turned, and through his eyes Harry turned as well… And nearly had a heart attack as he came face-to-face with the basilisk._

_He tried to close his eyes, but couldn't-they were no longer his. He struggled frantically, in his mind, to move away, but his effiorts were wasted. A second later, though, he stopped, almost expectantly, waiting for death; when nothing happened irritation at himself rose up at once._

_Of course it wouldn't kill him- this was just a memory, after all. Petrify? Maybe possible, but it didn't seem to be happening._

_But why wasn't Tom dead? That was certainly something to think on…_

_But there was not time for thinking. Harry needed his full attention on what was happening._

"_You are satisfied with the forest creatures, then?" Harry appeared to have landed in the middle of a conversation. The huge beast nodded its massive head, looking quite odd indeed. Harry would have been hard put not to laugh, had he been in control of his facial muscles._

_And if this very situation didn't terrify him._

"Grendel?"

Henry looked up from his breakfast. A teacher he didn't recognize held out his itinerary, which he accepted mutely. The large man eyed him curiously a moment before moving on.

"That's Slughorn."

Henry stopped himself from jumping as the voice of Tom-familiar and alien all at once-came from his left. He glanced over quickly to see the prefect sit down.

_You've got to be kidding me._

Apparently, he wasn't. "He's our head of house, and the potions master." His lips quirked upward a little, as if finding something amusing. "He, ah, also runs the 'Slug Club'. Students with skills in a certain area, famous relatives… Anyone who sticks out in some way and that he thinks will go far." His eyes glittered. "Be ready to be collected."

Henry grimaced a little. "I think I'll pass."

"You can't, unless you want to offend him." Said Tom smugly. "Maybe avoid it a little, but he's _very _persistent."

"I take it you're in the slug club?" Harry half-teased. A split second later he had to stop himself from recoiling in horror.

Was _conversing _with the man who would kill his parents?

But, he had to keep up appearances-he couldn't give Tom a cold shoulder for no reason, especially as Tom was the first and only person to really try and talk to him-it would just seem odd.

Oh well… Hey, time travel was weird, right? Maybe, Henry thought hopefully, Dumbledore had it all wrong and the real Voldemort was just another Tom Riddle who coincidentally went to school the same year and looked just like this Tom-

Ummm… or maybe not.

As he chatted with his hated rival, Henry wondered for what seemed was surely the thousandth time why everything seemed to happen to him…


	5. Politics

_**Politics**_

**Disclaimer; do I really need to write this? This does not belong to me.**

**A/N: Sorry about the last chapter so long- I think the first chapters that introduce everything are probably hardest to do, or at least when written in a non-boring way, as I'm attempting to do.**

**On the matter of reviews- I likely will only respond to questions, and if I do it will not here. They are very much appreciated, however. Now, my spacebar keeps jamming, and I have to hit it several times to type and am getting annoyed. So I think I'll end this note.**

By the middle of the first day of fifth year, Henry was about ready to happily ignore all time travel rules and chop off Tom's bloody head.

Was this because he hated him? Not quite.

Was it because Tom was cruel? Annoying? Nope.

Was this just because of his past? Wrong again. The problem in _this _time was that Tom wouldn't leave him alone!

It was obvious that the teen was interested in a potential relative, though for what purpose, exactly, Henry couldn't say. Did Tom want him as an ally, a follower, or was he just looking to see if he might need to quietly off Henry, as a potential threat? Or-perhaps the oddest thought of all-was he just looking for a friend? Henry had no clue, and it was starting to bother him.

"Dumbledore keeps looking at you."

Henry was started out of his thoughts-which seemed to be happening a lot lately- by a quiet murmur from his left. His gaze flickered over to Tom mildly, feigning disinterest.

"What _I'm _curious about is that _you _are looking at _him _enough to notice that," he commented, resisting the urge to glance up at the head table, where he knew the old man was eating his dinner. Tom was unperturbed. The Slytherin shrugged.

"Unfortunately, the professor keeps an annoyingly close watch on me-I'm a little paranoid, I suppose." He did not look at all abashed at this admission, and Henry inclined his head in acceptance of the answer. He felt a little Déjà vu at the first part, though.

"Do you know why he would be watching me, Tom?"

Ah, there it was again- _Tom._ More than anything else, it disturbed him that he had so quickly become accustomed to referring to his enemy in such a casual fashion. It was so easy to forget the boy next to him would become the man who had murdered his parents, and this memory would pop up unexpectedly each time he began to relax.

_Look for allies-strong, smart, and loyalty are key traits in this. You never know when connections might be needed…_

The words of his grandfather resurfaced in his mind, and for once he ignored the instinct left over from Dumbledore's meddling to shake it away.

His summer had not been as grueling as one might have thought, but not easy either. His grandfather trained him in the art of _occlumency, _which was a way to deflect mental invasions, and seemed to take great joy in sending random stinging hexes at him… Grindelwald said this was to help with reflexes, but Henry honestly thought it was just for the man's amusement. Other than that, he had either read some books in Nurmengard's rather extensive library or spent time out flying on his agonizingly slow 'top-of-the-line' broom. Aside from these, there had been only two things Grindelwald had paid special attention to: his bloodline, and little tips and advice. Like that concerning allies.

But could he listen to his grandfather?

Watching his new friend's face, he decided that, if nothing else, he could give this 'friend' a trial run.

Henry had the rather disconcerting feeling that if there was a devil on his shoulder, he would be laughing maniacally right about now.

Tom, in answer to Henry's previous question, snorted incredulously. "Henry, you're a _Slytherin _exchange student who popped out of _nowhere _in the middle of a _war- _a war in which, mind, everyone knows Dumbledore is probably the highest antagonist of the 'dark' side." Henry didn't miss the way Tom said 'dark', as though he highly disliked this opinion. "Not to mention you're talking to _me, _and he's apparently convinced I'm a psychotic sociopath who'll go nuts any second and attack his Gryffindors. How could he _not _be suspicious?"

Henry laughed lightly, both at what Tom had said about Dumbledore's opinion of the prefect and at himself, and tried to ignore the slight pang of worry he felt at Tom's description. Psychotic sociopath… Had they used that one before, describing Voldemort? He was pretty sure he had.

A few people were leaving. Tom glanced up. "Done?" Tom seemed to have decided he was sticking with Henry today, who didn't mind that much. It nagged on his conscious a little, but if he were to be honest with himself he was just as curious about Tom as Tom was of him. He nodded. Rising, and couldn't help but notice that a majority of the people leaving were also Slytherins. Tom caught the look.

"It's harder to hear conversations when everyone's here-we're all a little paranoid, I suppose. They're heading back to the common room." Tom had answered his unasked question, but a dozen new ones popped up. Forefront among these…

If all Slytherins were apparently this cunning… this observant...

How the _hell _had Crabbe and Goyle got in?

Henry had been expecting it, the talk about blood, about sides of the war… But however much he had prepared in his mind, he _really _hadn't expected the discussion the first night.

And he _definitely _hadn't been expecting that talk to be with the whole common room at once.

"It's disgusting," one Slytherin grumbled loudly. He was a sixth-year. "Did you _see_ how many mud-bloods we have this year?" there were murmurs of agreement; from the looks of it, this seemed to be a common discussion in Slytherin house, and many-including Tom, of course-began adding their own comments.

"Oh, I know! And all the _half_-bloods, too…. All the muggleborns are contaminating our bloodlines!"

"Well, half-bloods aren't _too _bad, as long as they're smart enough to stick to their wizarding heritage…"

"Shame what all these muggleborns are doing to families though… All this talk of 'setting differences aside'. Why they were even _told _they're magic, I can't imagine…"

A voice interrupted them, and the question effectively silenced the room.

"What do you think, Grendel?"

The whole common stared, waiting for the answer that could very well lead to ostracism from the rest of the house if answered wrongly. Next to him, he noticed Tom stiffen slightly. Dark eyes looked at him with only a polite curiosity, feigning disinterest; but Henry wasn't fooled. He knew this question probably meant more to Tom than anyone here. Images flickered before his eyes; images of his friend Hermione-or was she really his friend? Images of the hateful Dursleys… An image, in his textbook, from just last year, of the witch-trials… An image of his headmaster's twinkling blue eyes shining with intelligence, intelligence and a calculative hunger he had always been blind to… And then Grindelwald, a thousand memories in the blink of an eye, his little bits of advice…

He looked at them with a blank face many Slytherins envied, a result of his occlumency lessons. "I think…" he began evenly, watching from the corner of his eyes as Tom tensed, "…that muggleborns should be allowed to learn."

Chaos.

If things had gone differently, Harry very well could have been denied by the Slytherin, ended up refusing his grandfather's ways, and returned to his time the perfect and more powerful golden boy-Dumbledore's ultimate weapon. But, it didn't, because Tom noticed, unlike his furious housemates, that Henry was leaving something out.

"QUIET!"

The common room froze at the prefect's voice, which rarely was risen to a shout. Even the older years, fell silent, and it occurred to him again that he did _not _want Tom on his bad side.

"Let him continue." The words were not a request. Silent-were they even now afraid of Tom?-the room glared at this little newcomer who had somehow weaseled his way by Tom Riddle's side and waited.

Henry inclined his head slightly to Tom in thanks, than looked at the common room. "Has it ever occurred to you," he began quietly, "That once your proud, noble pure-blood lines descended from muggles? That the first witches or wizards of your line were 'mudbloods'?" the Slytherins bristled but remained silent. Tom narrowed his eyes, and Harry knew if he lost Tom he would lose them all. "I am not saying I like _muggles_." The disdainful way he said the word aided to the truth in his words. There was no need for them to know he only _really _hated the Dursleys…

He _did _only hate the Dursleys… right?

Mentally shaking off the thought, Henry continued, aware that Tom was only slightly appeased by this and waiting for more.

"Muggles…. Honestly, I don't care, you can have your own opinion on _them. _But what about muggleborns? We say that they shouldn't learn because they're born to muggles, because they'll give away the secrets to them… What would you prefer happen, really? They are as much magic as we are… And I assure you, if the muggleworld found out about magic, they would be just as hated as we are. Each wizarding line begins with a muggleborn, somewhere… And the descendants of these 'mudbloods' around us may very well turn into very respectable pure-bloods. But if they were excluded? If all purebloods only had children with each other, as you all seem to wish, and muggleborns completely ignored? Left in the muggle world, unable to ever add to the group of purebloods? Purebloods… All your 'noble' descendants would end up inbred and insane. Is _that _the pride of the wizarding world? A group of dwindling maniacs? I think not. The muggleborns are needed, whether we like it or not."

A silence pervaded the room again as he finished, watching them coolly. Tom's tension by him had disappeared. Some of the children would be hard to convince of anything, so ingrained their beliefs were… But Tom could not rise so far without intelligence. He knew this could very well be an important thing to consider. He was thinking on what Henry had said.

Apparently, others weren't so insightful.

"What's _your _line then, Grendel?" a seventh-year sneered haughtily. "Do you just say all of this to defend you parents?" Eyes narrowed at him; this answer could have disastrous consequences. If the answer was disliked, of course. And Henry knew it wouldn't be. By what the goblins had said, his grandfather had told him, and he had learnt of the Potter line, he knew his blood was probably thrice as 'pure' as any of them.

"On my father's side, I am twenty-fourth generation pureblood." He said evenly. They watched him carefully; his father's line might be quite respectable-probably more than a majority of theirs'- but if his mother's line wasn't… "On my mother's side, thirty-two generation."

Silence.

Even Tom, with his normally emotionless persona, was gaping at him. Thirty-two generations! His mother's line was almost definitely 'pure' for longer than anyone's in this rooms.

The seventh year shook himself, looking a little pale, and asked, "How do we know you're not lying?" he was grasping straws now, and everyone knew it.

"You don't," he said simply. "But I can't tell you more than that. My names been changed, of course-I'm not going to keep the same name when leaving the war to hide. You can't find proof, but you can't say its wrong either." He glared, daring the boy to call him out as a liar. "Believe what you will."

There was silence, again, now only punctuated by the uneasy shifting of the students. It was obvious he was telling the truth; why else would he make such a bold statement? A few averted their eyes and began to turn to their friends, as the discussion seemed over. But one stood up, slowly, watching him. The room froze.

"You are in hiding, you say." The girl said. It was not a question, but Henry nodded anyway.

"Yes."

The girl lifted her chin and glared down at him, obviously not pleased by this response. "Many of us support Grindelwald." A few winced as she openly stated this view, unpopular to most, but she ignored them, for they could not deny its truth. "You are running from him and his people… Your parents are obviously fighting against him… Why should we believe anything you say?"

Henry, too, rose slowly. "Do not presume anything," He met her gaze evenly. "Dippet was told I came seeking refuge from the war; this is true. But I never said that I am against Grindelwald… And I did not say the side searching for me was his." Pounding heart at contrasts with his emotionless face, he left to his dormitory with head held high, and wondered what the repercussions of his little show might be.


	6. Horsey! And Some Secrets Too

**A/N: Okay! I'm posting the next chap quickly for two reasons; one, because I took so long between the last few, and two, because I had sudden inspiration and wanted to write it quickly.**

**Oh-For those who didn't realize, this **_**is **_**dark harry. And evil harry.**

**Disclaimer; none of this belongs to me, its JK Rowlings, yada yada**

_"Parseltongue"_

**Chapter 6**

**Horsey! And Some Secrets Too**

"Henry, you're quite possibly the most frustrating person I have ever met." Henry looked up, startled. Tom glared. "What are you hiding?"

It was the end of the second month of the year, and if Henry had thought Tom would forget about him after a day or two he was sadly mistaken. Tom wasn't, though he had hated to admit it, bad company; quite the contrary, in fact. But while he was (slowly!) coming to accept him as a friend, that did not mean he was unaware Tom could turn against him any time. These weeks were not enough time for trust or loyalty to build completely, and his place still seemed fragile enough. The Slytherins reluctantly accepted him; mainly because their most influential member had, and the other houses were loathe to become enemies with what seemed one of few friends to the intimidating student… Not to mention that they knew very well Henry could be quite intimidating when he wanted to be. But however powerful Henry might be, he would be in a tricky situation if the school turned against him. Tom's protection aided him, and he knew if it left the school would turn on him with a vengeance, the students happy to have a chance to earn the prefect's favor. This, perhaps, was why he was so immediately worried at the words. Or he told himself that, anyway…

Surely it wasn't because he actually was _worried _and felt _guilty _as Tom's friend… right?

Right?

"What do you mean?" he asked, feigning disinterested curiosity and hoping the teen might just drop it. He didn't.

"_You know what I mean!"_

He stiffened slightly, then with a slight sigh closed his textbook and set it aside. He turned to face his dorm mate.

"_Perhaps." _He noted the parseltongue came easier now, but could not muster up guilt or chagrin over the fact. _"But it would help if you were more specific."_

Tom glared.

Henry waited.

Finally, the other caved. _"Why are you really here? How are you a parseltongue? What's your actual name? What-" _He stopped as Henry held up a hand. The blue-eyed boy contemplated Tom a moment, than sighed heavily, reaching a decision.

"Do you have somewhere to go where we won't be overheard?" He knew very well Tom did; the question was, would he reveal it? But it seemed he would, for the prefect only faltered a moment before nodding and rising abruptly.

"Follow me." Used to Tom's brusque character, he fell into step with the teen and walked until, as suspected, they reached the second floor. Tom glanced around to make sure no eyes watched them before opening the door to the girl's bathroom, glancing up swiftly to take in his reaction. Henry raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and went in after him.

Tom strode to the sink in the confident manner of one who had done the same many times before.

And then came the part that he had been waiting for…

"_Open."_

The sink slid open.

Here, finally, was the proof of Tom's hard-to-win trust. He could take it in a manner of ways; he could betray Tom, sticking by his side and eventually betraying him…

Or he could be the person he had supposedly been 'pretending' to be, and betray his old friends…

But, were they his friends? Were they, really? He had been out of Dumbledore's influence for months now, and his own cynical personality had quickly developed he was not the same person anymore. And all he knew in his time of Tom was through the mind Dumbledore controlled. He had only ever heard of the nasty side of Tom. What if there was a different side?

He decided it, then, as this all flashed through his mind in the space of a second. He would let time play its course, and ignore his past in the future. He would ignore that all, and make his decisions on the here, the now. And right now, if he ignored his past, his instincts and mind and everything was telling him to trust Tom and stick by him… This side told him the dark might not be so bad after all. And in that instant, in that decision, his conclusion sealed the fate of an oblivious world.

Harry had the oddest feeling that the little devil on his shoulder would be laughing manically again.

"_Stairs."_

Henry watched, this time with more true curiousity, as dirty narrow stairs appeared in a spiral. Ah, yes. How could he have been so silly. Salazar Slytherin would never do anything as undignified as sliding.

Tom walked down the stairs without glancing at him, and Henry wondered at this… was Tom actually _nervous? _Tom _never _got nervous. Or not that Henry could see, anyway. But then, he also probably wasn't used to actual _friends. _He hadn't been able to miss it, really; Tom had _acquaintances, _Tom had _allies, _Tom had _connections, _but never once had he seen anyone he might think of as Tom's _friend. _Perhaps he, too, could be put under the title of 'ally', but if so he was much closer to Tom than anyone else he had seen so far. Of course, the two were much more serious than most fifth-years, which separated them a little from others. But while they had both had to grow quickly, it still seemed alien for Tom to have had no real friends at all previously. Now, it occurred to him for the first time how strange it must be to Tom to consider someone as more than an associate or acquaintance or enemy… He supposed it must be very strange indeed.

The chamber was _almost _as he remembered it, but a little different, somehow… he realized a second later why; there were currently very few bones on the ground in this section. Tom apparently hadn't appreciated the crunching of mouse-bones beneath his feet every time he came to a visit…

This thought made his pace falter for a moment.

Visit! Oh, but how had he forgotten? This was where the basilisk lay in wait… And in this time, it wasn't dead.

Would he see the basilisk? Did Tom plan to introduce them, perhaps? He could practically feel himself paling, than shook himself. If Tom _was _introducing him, it certainly wouldn't be as a meal this time. As long as he swallowed his fears, this would go fine.

As it turned out, Tom didn't seem to worried about the basilisk. They came to the main chamber, and Tom went to sit on the raised platform, legs hanging off the side in what was, in contrast to the last time Henry had been here, an almost ridiculous position.

"No one but us may come in here." His voice left no room for doubt. His eyes dared Henry to ask about the room.

"I would assume not." Henry smiled faintly. "Very well, I can't avoid it any longer…" He sat next to Tom, frowning thoughtfully as he considered what to say. Tom waited patiently, and finally, he spoke.

"I tell you this only because I believe I may trust you with this information, and with the knowledge it will not fall into the wrong hands." His eyes said what he would not speak aloud- _Tell, and you'll regret it. _"Obviously, you're curious about why I came to Hogwarts. But I have only been giving half-truths. I came because of Grindelwald, not because I fled his people. Well, maybe some of them, but mostly not…" Tom frowned.

"Do you _enjoy _making this longer, frustrating me?" he asked, huffing.

"Yes," said Henry mildly, then smirked a little at Tom's growl. He was silent then, waiting. A moment later-

"Fine, fine, I'll the bait. Wipe that smirk off your face… Now, how _exactly _has Grindelwald made you come here?"

"He told me to." Henry said this in a 'duh' tone, as though this should be obvious, though he knew very well it wasn't. Tom knew _he _knew it as well.

"Directly?" He could see Tom's mind spinning.

"Yes."

"_Why?" _All subtleties were gone now. Tom was done masking his curiosity, and Henry decided to end his game and be blunt with him.

"He can't very well leave his heir around where his enemies could find me, could he? Had to put me somewhere."

He chuckled, quietly, at the look of indescribable shock consuming Tom's normally stoic face.

"Did I break you?" He leant forward and poked Tom's shoulder experimentally, as though expecting him to fall over. That snapped him out of it.

"You-but-how-you-" Tom composed himself. "_Explain!_" His face was white. A child of a follower of Grindelwald, perhaps? Maybe even a spy sent by Grindelwald? _That _he could handle. But the _heir _of the dark lord… Merlin!

"I'm his only heir… But, I'm not his _current _heir. Not really." Tom blinked. "See, Grindelwald was a little paranoid about his descendants… So, he decided if ever he was down to a single heir and couldn't teach that heir, he would be transported back to him sometime before his fifteenth birthday. He willed it so, and his will is iron, and the goblins followed his command. I, his heir, went to him through not only a long distance but also-"

"Time." Tom's voice was a stunned whisper. "_Time_. That would explain so much…" He paused, something occurring to him. His gaze rose to meet Henry's. "…Including how you knew I'm a parseltongue?"

His mind whirled, but he remembered the fifth-year Tom in the diary, wand raised in the air…

_I Am Lord Voldemort_

Yes, he already had the name.

"_Yes…" _he met Tom's eyes. _"…Lord Voldemort."_

There was a silence so thick it seemed almost loud in its impossible intensity, and Tom remained frozen. He breathed out, slowly.

"So… I did rise, then…" His voice was a wondering murmur.

"Still a dark lord when I came here," Henry replied, inclining his head in acknowledgement. "Would it please you to know most are too scared to say you're name? They call you You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I think that in itself says how well you've been doing…" Tom looked at him sharply, but saw no mockery in his face, and relaxed a little. "Few know you're true name, actually. I heard it from Dumbledore, actually; he's still alive, unfortunately, though to weak to really do anything about you now."

_Unfortunately? Do I truly hate him that much-_

Tom looked at him with a frown. "Should you even be telling me any of this?" he asked. Time-traveling is risky-I shouldn't know anything about the future…"

"Yeah, yeah." Henry shook his head. "Its been said before. I'm not telling you anything important, don't worry. And, in any case, time-travel can't really be predicted… But, if I'm here, then in my time I must have already went to the past and then left it, even before I was born, so I'm _meant _to do this, and obviously my world hasn't been destroyed by a black-hole recently, so everything seems alright. Technically, I've already told you everything, so I'm only fulfilling what had already happened." Tom paused, trying to work over the confusing enigma that was time, and Henry smiled at his efforts. After a moment, he gave up.

"I think I'll only give myself a headache arguing," he said wryly, "So I'll pass. But I'll have more to say on this when my head isn't spinning!" Henry's lip twitched, and he nodded in acceptance. "Now, what about my other questions?"

Henry's smile faltered.

"…I'm afraid I can't tell you my name," he finally said. "_That _would change a lot, I think I can safely say; and, unfortunately, my being a parseltongue ties in quite closely to that."

Tom looked frustrated. "Will you _ever _be able to say?"

"Sure. Just wait about half a century or whatever. I'll hunt you down then and properly introduce myself." He smiled, innocently, as though he weren't being extremely aggravating. Tom glared.

_There was a dead man in front of him._

_This was the first thing he realized. The next took a moment to sink in, so shocked was he, but he realized it after a moment… He wasn't in his body._

_But could it be Tom's, as his thoughts jumped to? He felt so small… Tom had not killed this man. He felt this with such utter certainty there was no doubt left. Not this man._

_After all, why would Tom be crying about someone he had wanted dead?_

_The body he was in had frozen, and he knew somehow Tom felt great grief. Then the door opened._

_A women, snobby just by the looks of her, froze as she saw the scene above her. She stared at the man for a long second, eyes bulging, mouth unhinging. Then her head snapped up to look straight into 'Henry's' eyes._

"_YOU!"_

"_Wha-" the women had apparently shocked child-Tom from his temporary paralysis. _

"_YOU! You're always doing odd things-you did this, didn't you? You…" The memory faded, the woman's yells faded to incomprehensible screeching, and the fear and shock and horror and _anger _he felt through Tom tripled, and then the scene faded completely, and the emotions stopped, and then he felt nothing…_

_He woke._

"You're going to be a rabbit, or a badger, I bet-"

"Oh, I will not! At least I can _be _an animagus-"

"Maybe! We still don't know until you take the potion-"

"Only about three percent can't be-"

"Exactly. Makes it that much worse, doesn't it?"

"You would know," Henry snorted. Tom glared.

It was a week into Christmas break. Tom and Henry were among the few staying, Tom telling him what he already knew-that he was an orphan-and he himself receiving a letter stating curtly that current 'issues' could make it dangerous to return home. Henry wondered what this might mean.

Tom had admitted to Henry that he had been trying to become an animagus. He defended himself by saying he knew he could have been one, and was close to succeeding in his form-unsurprisingly a king cobra. Unfortunately, he said, a certain 'experiment' of his had the unforeseen consequence of making the transformation impossible. But while Tom had all the information all ready, it would be much quicker for Henry learn. First, they would use some of Tom's left over potion he had kept to see if Henry had a form-and, if he did, he would be forcibly transformed. It was more painful than the meditating commonly used to find their forms, and Henry suspected, though didn't ask, that the potion was rather dark in nature. Either way, if things went well Henry could be a successful animagus by the end of the school year.

"Don't spit _any _out," Tom warned as he handed the vial to Henry. He stood in the middle of the Chamber of Secrets, unsure how big his form might be. Tom would stand by in case he was a fish, or something, and needed help. The potion would not where off for exactly one hour. "This isn't exactly easy to make, nor is it cheap; try to ignore the taste."

"'Try to ignore the taste,' he says," Henry grumbled good-naturedly. "Because that always bodes well…" He accepted the vial, wrinkled his nose at the pungent odor, then braced himself and drank.

And, to his surprise, found it tasted delightful.

After he had drank it-he had gulped it down rather quickly for fear of the taste-he blinked a few times. As no terrible after-taste became noticeable, he gave Tom an incredulous look. The prefect smirked in a mischievous way, showing Henry that even Voldemort, in his youth, had had some childish moments.

"What?" he asked innocently. "You could have spit it out in shock at the taste, you know." Harry huffed and opened his mouth to speak-and ended up, instead, catching his breath as he fought back a scream. Tom's smile fell, and he watched warily. It became obvious, for a second, that he had tricked Henry in an effort to distract him. It certainly worked well enough. He was unprepared for the pain, and it passed all the more quickly for that.

But it was by no means short.

He felt his muscles and bones and organs, felt parts of his body he hadn't known existed be pulled into unnatural shapes despite the protest they gave by way of pain. He fought back a scream-who had said the cruciatus curse was the worst pain to exist? They had obviously never felt this…

And then, it was over.

He panted, but the pain had left as abruptly as it had come, and he found himself feeling perfectly fine. He tried to frown, but his mouth felt awkward. It was than that it struck Harry that he had changed to his animal. He tried to look down around, but in clumsiness hit his face against the ground. Without knowing how he had done it, he gave an irritated whinny, and as he looked around with sudden delight he found he was a horse.

_A rabbit, ha!_

He made it to his feet, after only two attempts, than realized Tom had not spoken. He turned his head, looking for his friend through alien eyes, and saw that he was staring at him in a motionless, stunned silence.

_What? _Obviously, he couldn't talk like this, and the question came out as a puzzled-sounding whinny. This seemed to snap him out of it.

"Henry…" He looked practically speechless. "Henry…" What was so weird about a horse animagus?

"You're a _Pegasus?!_"

Oh. That.

But…

Wasn't that impossible? From the look of Tom, it certainly seemed that had been what most thought. Wizards were supposedly unable to become magical creatures-something about the magic of the forms being incompatible, or whatever. That meant his magic had to be similar to this horse's… pegasus'… whatever.

It had to be him, huh?

But for once he couldn't feel irritated the Harry Potter-exception that seemed to apply to everything. He wondered what he looked like. Tom seemed to read his thoughts, and conjured a large mirror.

Oh.

Well, that could explain Tom's face.

He knew the look of the animal represented the human, but this as just ridiculous!

His body was black, including a rather beautiful mane, if he could say so himself. His wings were a metallic silver, as were his hooves. This wouldn't be _that_ bad, even if most pegasi were a light brown The problem?

There were _also _very peculiar markings on his side. In the light sky-blue of a perfect day, standing out like white on black on him, were two wavy lines, one above the other, with perfect symmetry. These were on each side. Even worse was the long red streak, going from just below his right ear to the bottom left of his muzzle. It was in the shape of a lightning bolt, and the red, dark as it was, belonged on no horses' body. He would stand out like a beacon among other pegasi-there was no mistaking him.

But he couldn't deny that, once you got over that little issue, he looked completely wicked-beautiful, graceful, and deadly. He decided to focus on that and turned to Tom, throwing back his head with a snort, and pranced over in an obviously boasting way.

"Show off."

**Okay! The horse thing will have big significance later on. Be patient!**

**Also, I know i seem to be skipping through time fast, but It'll be pretty dull if i go through every week of his four years in the past. And it'l slow down soon. You didn't forget about the chamber, right?**

**Please review!**


	7. End Year 1of4

**Disclaimer; Don't own this, never have, never will, J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter, blah blah…**

End year 1

It had started again.

A Hufflepuff had been petrified. The school was in a panic, the teachers all baffled, and it had occurred to Henry that this time there had been no precedent. No one suggested the Chamber of Secrets. A freak accident, they said, and the teachers seemed convinced of this. They'd figure it out soon, they told the students, and that was that. But Henry, watching carefully, saw the way Tom had paled under their announcement-just slightly, but he could have sworn his friend looked nervous a minute.

He was acting strangely, too. He spent more time elsewhere, and would not tell where he had been upon returning. Henry wondered if Tom would ever tell him. He soon found that he would… And Henry would end up deeper in the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets than he could imagine.

* * *

"Another student's been petrified."

The words came from Horace Slughorn, the Potions Master in this time period and Slytherin Head. The common room was quiet a moment.

"Who?" A second year dared ask.

"Fred Winters," Slughorn said. His normally cheerful voice was unusually grave. "He's a third-year Ravenclaw."

"Are there any connections between him and the HufflePuff?" a voice asked. Henry didn't catch who, but the question made a few stir uneasily. Henry glanced at Tom quickly, and was able to catch the teen tensing.

"Not yet," Slughorn replied wearily. Tom relaxed almost imperceptibly. "And both were found quite far apart… Please, remember there's no reason to panic. They will be cured soon enough, and I _highly _doubt any thing of this sort will happen again any time soon." He did not seem quite as sure of these words as he had been after the first attack, and no one missed it. The room erupted into conversation as soon as he left.

"There's something they're not telling us-"

"What causes petrifying-?"

"At least no one from Slytherin has been targeted yet…"

"Henry?"

Henry looked at Tom's pale face. "Hmm?"

Tom glanced around quickly.

"_Can you meet me in the chamber?" _The hissing of the rare language went completely unnoticed in the rare uproar of the Slytherins. Henry nodded. Tom slipped out of the room with the ease of one used to hiding in the shadows. Henry waited a minute before following.

"_What is it?"_

Tom's eyes flickered around the chamber of secrets uneasily. _"I… Henry… I never told you what this place is, did I?"_

"_No…"_

He took a deep breath. _"…This is the Chamber of Secrets." _He paused, waiting for a reaction.

"_Ah."_

Tom blinked.

"…_Ah? That's all you have to say? Ah?"_he sounded disbelieving.

"_Um, should I clap?"_

"_Oh shut up," _Tom hissed, irritated now. On the bright side, though he seemed to forget his anxiousness. _"Anyway I brought you here to introduce you to someone… Um, it might be best to close your eyes."_

So he _was _introducing him to the basilisk.

Interesting.

He obeyed, closing his eyes tight, grumbling under his breath good-naturedly as he did so. He heard Tom walk a little farther away.

"_Hear me, Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four!"_

There was a loud rumbling.

Henry had to fight the urge to open his eyes and see what was going on. He heard Tom speak quietly in parseltongue, though he was unable to discern what was said.

"_Okay, Henry, open your eyes."_

He opened them.

How had it never occurred to him before how beautiful the basilisk was?

_Oh… right…. It was kinda trying to eat me at the time..,_

With that small distraction gone, however, he could completely focus on the huge snake in front of him.

The basilisk was huge, though seemed slightly smaller than when he had first seen it-it was over fifty years younger, after all. He knew its closed eyes would be a bright yellow, from Myrtle's description. Its scales were a dark green, and Henry thought it seemed healthier than when he had seen it. He suddenly remembered that Tom had probably awoken the basilisk a year or two ago, even if the attacks had only just started.

"_A basilisk."_

"_Yes." _Tom showed no shock at this knowledge. He was used to Henry's surprises. _"Henry, meet Stheno, Stheno, Henry."_ Stheno nodded regally in Henry's direction, eyes still closed.

"_A pleasure to meet you," _Henry hissed, bowing despite Stheno's closed eyes. _"Stheno… An immortal gorgon, who petrifies when the snakes in her hair are viewed…very appropriate."_

"So you know, then?" Tom asked, switching to English.

"Yes."

"_Do othersss know?" _Henry glanced up in slight surprise as he heard the snakes raspy voice, heard how the S's were long and realized that even for a basilisk, this creature was old.

"Not as far as I know-they likely have not even considered the chamber as the cause of the attacks. Why would they?" Tom nodded, looking a little relieved to have a second opinion. "Still, it might be good to lay low awhile… What exactly are you trying to do, anyway?"

"Scare away the muggleborns," Tom said, as though this was obvious. "At least the weaker willed ones. The ones who would flee the school at the first hint of danger… Brave muggleborns who may be worthy of wizarding life style will be the ones to remain."

Now _this _surprised Henry. Had Voldemort always had these ideals? Had they changed over time? Or was he accidentally changing the past? "Well, what about the ones who are forced to leave, because of their parents? Or the weak ones forced to stay?"

"Well, they'll at least be able to express what they'd _like _to do in any rate," Tom said.

"What about the innocent muggleborns in the hospital wing? They can't exactly choose, you know, and they haven't done anything wrong-"

"Oh, stop being so soft!" Stheno, seeing her part was over, offered a nod and slithered away. Henry allowed a moment of regret to come over him-he would be the one to kill this magnificent creature, he knew."They're necessary sacrifices. And really, it's not like Stheno killed them-"_Like Myrtle? _"-They're just petrified!"

"A basilisk stare _can _kill though-"

Tom shook his head furiously, frustrated, and Henry trailed off. "You don't get it, do you? You said I'm going to be a dark lord, yes? Is there a war in your time?" he nodded grudgingly. "There are _deaths _in war, Henry! Sacrifices for the greater good-isn't that the motto of your grandfather?"

"…Well, ye-"

"That's just it, Henry! It's for _the greater good! _People may suffer, yes, and while it would be preferable if that didn't happen its inevitable. People are going to die, Henry, and you have to accept that. Is it not worth it to know countless future generations won't have to suffer? That they'll live in peace? The world is in a downward spiral, and _we _can bring it out of it."

"You don't know if it will work," Henry whispered, realization crashing down on him. _We, _Yes. If he did not walk away now, he knew he never would. He would officially have joined the dark side of the war. "So many others have failed…"

"There's a first time for everything, Henry." Tom's eyes glittered. "Do you think they reach for an impossible goal? And we have something they didn't have."

"What?"

"Two. Two people, Henry, a balance, so one might not grow arrogant. They were all consumed by power, the past dark lords. We won't be."

_But is it too late for you, Tom? _But he was in too deep, now-he couldn't say no even if he had wanted to, and he was far from saying no. His eyes closed briefly.

"Well, I have a feeling Grandfather will be quite pleased when I return home. Taking up the family business after all."

Tom grinned.

* * *

"Ok, this is _really _uncomfortable."

"Suck it up. Oh, by the way, I have some astronomy homework, is Mars or Venus in-"

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"If you keep talking, I'm going to have to murder you."

"See? Told you that you have a sadistic side somewhere…"

It was a week after the meeting in the chamber, half way through January. Henry finally accepted what he had known somewhere the whole time-he wasn't the Gryffindor Golden Boy. He was dark, and he was going to make Dumbledore pay. It felt oddly good to admit that.

Currently, Tom and Henry were working on Henry's transformation in the chamber. With the aid of a few potions Henry _knew _were dark-he had made some of them himself, actually-his transformation was going well. He was already able to replace his legs with the horses and his feet with hooves, though this was _extremely _uncomfortable. Not to mention that, since the method they were using wasn't the normal one, it made his legs sore to practice, and they stayed that way a good deal after. His first few complete transformations would afterwards leave him quite drained, though he felt the pros far outweighed any repercussions. And despite his progress, he still had a ways to go-the head was the hardest.

"Great, centaur." Tom was enjoying this. "Or would you prefer satyr?"

"Okay, I can live with centaur, but if you try to call me a half-goat you're going to find out hooves hurt a lot more than feet."

Tom snickered.

* * *

"Have they found any connections yet, sir?"

A third attack. By now, it was obvious that they were no accidents or coincidences. Henry had given Tom an accusing glance as Slughorn walked in, and Tom smiled sheepishly.

"…No," Slughorn said, but his pause had not been missed.

"Sir?"

Slughorn hesitated, then shifted uneasily. "Well… Mostly, no. Some male, some female, some lower years, some upper… There are no immediate connections, but…"

"Yes?"

"Well its probably not pertinent…" He hesitated. The common room waited expectantly, and he caved. "Well… They're all muggleborn."

Next to him, Tom stiffened suddenly, and Henry knew he had done the same. Others were, too, as they considered this.

"As I said," Slughorn assured hastily, "I'm sure it doesn't have anything to do with the attacks-don't dwell on it to much." He allowed a nervous smile, than quickly left.

"_Chamber! Now!"_

* * *

"They saw the connection!" Tom bemoaned. "How did they see it?"

"They'll probably just think it's a coincidence-"

"Of course they won't! Not with Grindelwald's rising! Henry, don't you realize? We'll be top suspects- Slytherins, one already watched by Dumbledore, the other an unknown transfer student, both suspicious and disappearing so often…"

"Dippet is the headmaster, not Dumbledore," Henry pointed out. "Dippet won't allow Dumbledore to make all the decisions. Didn't you say yourself Dippet favors you?"

"What does it matter? Dippet is starting to panic, everyone is, and what do people do when they panic? Turn to Dumbledore!" He stood from his spot on the platform and began pacing.

"Tom, calm down," Henry commanded. "He's not going to find out its you… Or he won't have proof, anyway." Tom froze in mid-step, foot in the air, than suddenly whirled around to stare at him.

"You know what's going to happen?" he demanded.

"Dumbledore will know," Harry told him. "But he'll only suspect, and have no proof. After all, the 'real' culprit will be caught red-handed." He had Tom's full attention now.

"Who? What?" Tom was excited now.

"You will catch Hagrid with a giant acromantula..."

* * *

"Hey, Tom, have you seen-" Henry's voice stopped mid-sentence, and Tom looked to see him staring. He frowned slightly.

"Yes?"

"I…" Henry paused. His eyes never left the book in front of Tom. "What?"

"Have I seen what?" Tom raised his eyebrows, looking impatient. Henry blinked a few times, rapidly, and was unable to answer. Tom's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Henry knew he'd been caught.

"You've seen this before."

"Yes."

Tom watched him, carefully, but Henry's emotions were masked again. Suddenly, Tom's eyes widened, and Henry smiled grimly.

"It works," he breathed. "It will work?"

"Yes… although, I'm not completely sure what it is… just that it held a memory of you."

"A horcrux," Tom told him, barely hesitating. He was trusting Henry much more as the year went on-something all of the Slytherins noticed and resented. "It will hold a piece of my soul, when I'm finished-I'm working on protection spells right now, and readying it. A normal book would be unable to stand the spell." Henry had no idea what a Horcrux was ,but knowing Tom it required dark spells or rituals. Honestly, he couldn't really bring himself to care anymore. He nodded, thoughtfully, and said nothing. Tom looked about to add something, but they suddenly heard footsteps approaching. They quickly exchanged glances, and Tom shifted a little on his spot on his bed. He slid the book under the covers, on his side facing away from the door.

He immediately launched into a description of the events of a goblin, as though he and Henry had been discussing a History lesson. Henry quickly went to sit on his own bed, hastily positioning himself in a comfortable position so he seemed to have been there awhile. A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal Alexander Malfoy, one of Tom's most trusted allies-or as trusted as a Malfoy could be, anyway. He Tom nodded to him as he walked in, as did Henry, and finished his impromptu lesson. Alexander sat down to join them, and the two were unable to speak of what had happened the rest of the night.

During the whole conversation, Henry was uncomfortably aware of the diary he knew lay under Tom's covers.

* * *

It was surprisingly simple.

Henry remembered the date in the diary. One more person had been petrified, and the school had been frantic. Tom had been reluctant to put Stheno back into her slumber, not knowing of Myrtle, and Henry allowed him to procrastinate. After Myrtle, however, Tom knew he had no choice. Henry had directed Tom in what to do, and Tom had done so, successfully framing Hagrid, and Stheno was sent to sleep again. Henry found he felt no guilt whatsoever, even though Hagrid was his 'friend'. And, in addition to this, he and Tom decided he must not be having any negative effects on the past. Tom would not have known what to do without Henry's help, which he could not have gotten, had Henry not known about the same thing happening in his past. Everything had, in Henry's time, already occurred, and so he changed nothing. It was confusing, and they thought no more of it afterwards.

Summer was quickly approaching. The end of the year tests had gone well, and Henry and Tom now had more free time. Some time, of course, was always spent socializing with the other Slytherins. Allies were always important-or, as Henry often said, 'Every dark lord needs his minions.' But they also spent a lot of time dedicated to Henry's animagus training. He was close to pulling it off.

"Okay, it can't be _that _hard," Tom growled, frustrated. "You've spent more time on the head than anything else! Even the _wings _took less time!"

"How would _you _like to morph your brain and skull into funky shapes with the help of a dark potion?" Henry snapped, imagining such a thing occurring. He could almost feel his head shifting…ugh.

"Quickly." Tom answered, not missing a beat.

"You-" his voice cut off abruptly in the middle of speaking, and he gasped and tried to draw in a breath.

"Henry?" Tom leapt to his feet, drawing his wand, raising it in preparation.

An odd, mangled choking sound came from Henry. His eyes rolled, exposing the whites, and a shudder ran through him. The words of the stunning spell were on his lips-and then, all at once, not smoothly at all but completely suddenly, Henry's head was that of a horse.

Tom took a moment to take it in. When he had absorbed the shock. A maniac grin spread on his face.

"You've done it!"

At the end of the school year, Henry went through the complete transformation.

This was unlike the other transformations he had gone through. In those, he had stayed mostly human, focusing on only a specific part of his body. For this to work, he needed to change completely all at once. Tom hovered around him with wand in hand, only backing off when Henry pointed out he need room to transform. He took a moment to calm himself, using some of the Occlumency techniques Grindelwald had taught him. And then, focusing on every part of his body for the first time, he transformed.

He would never be able to describe the feeling, really. It was odd, alien, but somehow the form was _right _at the same time. He knew with practice he could feel completely at home in his form, and even on the first success he thought he wasn't too far off from it. Next to him, Tom laughed softly.

"Took you long enough," he told Henry. Pegasus-Henry snorted in an irritated fashion, stamping on the ground, and turned his head to look at his friend. A thought occurred to him, and if his mouth could move in such a way he would be smirking. He half-knelt and looked at Tom expectantly.

"What-No. No, no, no." Tom shook his head hastily. "No way am I riding you, you demon donkey-" He was cut off by Henry's long, drawn-out, irate whinny. He glared at Tom, but there was also amusement in the dark green eyes of the Pegasus.

_The great Lord Voldemort, scared of riding a wittle Pegasus? _Tom clearly got the same idea, and, knowing what ran through his friend's mind, flushed pink.

"Fine, fine!" he snapped. He strode forward, hefting himself onto Henry's back as though he did this every day. The tight grip on his mane told Henry otherwise, and he shook his head pointedly. Tom switched to a hold around his neck-probably worse, but oh well.

And if Tom was going to make him suffer, he could at least repay him…

With no warning, he promptly bolted down the long chamber, and Tom's grip tightened, though his pride stopped any sound from escaping him. It was a close call, though, when Henry suddenly took to the air.

"What are you doing?!" Tom's words were both furious and terrified.

'_Flying!' _Henry wanted to reply. He settled on a laughing snort.

Some inner instinct seemed to guide him. He flew quickly, going dangerously close to the side of the chamber wall before veering away sharply, going into nearly straight dives before pulling away. No wonder he was so good at Quidditch! By the death-grip on his neck, Tom didn't share his enthusiasm. Reluctantly, Henry took pity on his unwilling passenger and landed.

Tom, after a few frozen seconds, slowly unhinged his arms and then, realizing solid ground was in his grasp, quickly scrambled off-in a highly dignified way, of course. He swayed unsteadily once he was off Henry's back.

"Grendel, you are _dead._"

* * *

**A/N: Like it? Angry with me for taking so long? Heh… sorry. Anyway, please review! And, also, again, I'm going to slow down a LOT once Henry-Harry goes back to… 1995? So don't worry about that!**

**And, in case you missed it…**

**Please review!**


	8. Poseidon

**A/N: Um… Sorry? I'll try to update more, which I think I've said before, but still. I had some major writer's block. Sorry!**

**Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter or any associated things, blah, blah, yada yada. That's all J.K. Rowlings.**

* * *

**Summer**

* * *

"Sir?"

Henry's grandfather, one of the most feared dark lords to have ever existed, glanced up at him from the large map he was studying. "Yes?" Henry didn't often interrupt Grindelwald while he was in the higher halls-in here he kept the darker books, his maps, and his letters and notes and plans. Last summer Henry had tried to avoid his grandfather when he was plotting world domination, thank-you-very-much.

"I was wondering…" He paused, wondering how exactly to phrase it.

"What?" His grandfather's voice was irritable. If the place wasn't about to be attacked, he wanted no interruption.

"Sir… I was wondering about a friend of mine coming over for the summer…"

"_What?"_

His grandfather's voice was both angry and incredulous. He stared at Henry in shock. "Have I taught you _nothing? _I am _wanted _world-wide for my 'crimes'. I am a _dark lord! _Damn it, boy! Has Dumbledore been at your mind again? You have the foolishness to ask if a school friend may visit NURMENGARD?" Grindelwald was appalled, but, above that, furious at the stupidity of his heir. Grindelwald seemed to be greatly offended.

"Did I mention he's a dark lord in my time?" Henry asked hastily, knowing he probably shouldn't be saying this.

Grindelwald froze.

He stared at Henry with an indecipherable look for a moment. Then, he chuckled lowly. He slowly shook his head.

"Perhaps you're not as hopeless as I thought," he mused. Henry wasn't sure if he should be offended or not. "But don't presume, boy, that this ensures he is dark lord material-some dark lords are weak, for all their rank. I will not be the one to let a hopeless case rise. Will it be worth it, then, if I let him come?"

Henry wasn't just asking for a friend's company for a day or two, and his grandfather knew it. Henry was, in essence, asking for training-not just for Tom but for himself as well. The knowledge that his heir would be taking on his role in the future made him pleased. Perhaps this was why the surly dark lord was so amiable that day.

"How long?"

* * *

"So, here is the person who persuaded my heir to follow the 'dark'."

"Sir."

Tom's voice was calm and even as he inclined his head slightly. His dark, glittering eyes did not leave those of Grindelwald's. First impressions, he knew, were vitally important.

Grindelwald clasped his hands behind his back, meeting the gaze for a moment before taking in Tom's appearance. He had worn his best robes for the occasion. Henry sat on a nearby chair, face blank, trying not to show his nerves. He didn't know how Tom managed to be so emotionless. Henry couldn't stop the occasional twitching or shifting, or the distracted little motions which let his feelings be known. Tom, in contrast, always seemed perfectly calm, and Henry was rather certain _he _had no occlumency training via dark lord to aid that appearance.

"Why don't you sit down?" Grindelwald's smooth voice broke the tense atmosphere. Henry couldn't help the small sigh of relief that passed his lips-he'd been sure his grandfather would _avada _his friend then and there! Grindelwald's eyes flickered to him at the sound, but he said nothing.

Grindelwald and Tom were silent for a time, looking as though caught in a staring contest. Henry was getting anxious. Just when he thought he could stand the silence no longer, a slow smile crept over his grandfather's face.

"Yes. You will do just fine." He nodded once to Tom and Henry separately and left without further preamble.

* * *

Eyes had not been able to see what had occurred

Tom was aware in some far corner of his mind that Henry was sitting in the room and was very confused. But he couldn't spare much thought for his friend.

When he and Grindelwald- Grindelwald! –had locked eyes, Tom's untrained mind had felt the probing and answered. He had no occlumency skills to speak of, but he had read of it, and of its counterpart, legilimency-the mind-probing technique he felt was being used on his being by this powerful dark lord. Suddenly it did not matter how good first impressions were, or if he was meant to allow this intrusion as some sort of test. He bowed to _no one, _and this man would NEVER get into his mind! And with that firmly in thought, he pushed the enemy intrusion out.

Was that a flicker of surprise in Grindelwald's face? He couldn't tell, and if it was it was gone too quickly for note; the probe was back again, and fiercer than ever, not bothering to try and be subtle now he knew his search would be felt. Outside Tom showed nothing, but inwardly he cringed at the pain. _Gods, _but it hurt!

What followed the initial legilimency attack was hard to describe; A more experienced legilimens or occlumens might try to visualize a physical defense to withhold the invasion of his mind, and would likely do so while _inside _their mind. Tom, however, had not even amateur knowledge in this regard; he _felt _the push, and responded, and did his best to guard. But though his meek defenses encouraged him a little, his hopes were crushed in seconds as Grindelwald easily swept them aside after several minutes. With a bit of true horror he realized, then, that Grindelwald had just been feeling his defenses-he was _toying _with him.

Now, Tom was not and had never been arrogant. Arrogance was suicide, in his opinion, and anyone who knew the meaning behind the name Voldemort would laugh at the thought of Tom doing any such thing. But while he was careful and cautious and always told himself that he should _over_estimate others and _under_estimate himself, if he was to be safe, he was still well aware his magical prowess was astonishing. And so it was with no small dismay he recognized the power of Lord Grindelwald.

_He will crush me. Henry _did _change the past, Now I will meet my death, here, tricked by a dark lord afraid of competition, and he will squash me with no fight because I am _not_ yet any competition. He will kill me as if I were a wingless fly. I am dead. I am dead. I-_

He held himself rigid as a smile worked its way onto Grindelwald's face. Death was his one greatest fear.

But Grindelwald did not raise his wand.

"Yes. You will do just fine."

* * *

**July Tenth, two p.m.**

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, was fairly quiet compared to how it sometimes was. There was, in fact, only twelve currently in the house, if you so chose to ignore the ancient house-elf and hippogriff. Among these twelve were six red-heads- the Weasley twins, the two youngest Weasleys, and their parents- and a fifteen-year-old girl. There was also an escaped convict by the name of Sirius Black, a werewolf professor by the title of Remus Lupin, two aurors, being Nymphadora Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, as well as a thief, Mundungus Fletcher, who had earned the not-so-affectionate nickname 'Dung'.

At the moment, nothing of much excitement was occurring. In fact, the children were currently rather bored, one or two cleaning, and though they would never admit it for fear of sounding childish the adults were also succumbing to the aforementioned condition. In several minutes, however, it could be safely said they would have preferred boredom to what would happen that day. Especially, mind, when the reasons for the disturbance one day became known-although that, of course, would not be for quite a time yet. This disturbance came in the form of one Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody.

Now, normally if Mad-Eye had come through the door of Grimmauld speaking or complaining loudly it would take a moment or two before any attention was focused on him, simply because his yelling was so commonplace. As it was, however, his current agitation was immediately noticed, and rightly so. This was because Mad-Eye had just minutes before left to take watch over Harry Potter. Alastor Moody did _not _just ignore watch duty. And this was why all the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place, London, bolted up from there spots in the living room or kitchen to hear what he had to say, and all at once the house was thrown into chaos.

"_Potter's missing!"_

In the uproar that followed, what with the children yelling in confusion and Molly adding her voice to the mayhem as well, those who could better keep their calm slowly turned to a very pale Mundungus Fletcher.

* * *

**July Tenth, four p.m.**

Grimmauld Place was packed to the brim with magic folk less than two hours after Harry's absence was noticed. Some of the Order of the Phoenix was missing, but only one or two-this was an emergency. All about the house wizards were yelling, muttering, whispering, or in some cases just sitting in stony, grim silence.

The door opened, and the house went silent.

Dumbledore strode in, blue eyes dark, looking solemn. With a tense silence the other's silently filed into the meeting room. The teenagers followed as well. No one moved to stop them.

When they were all seated, Dumbledore sighed and paused a moment, eyes brooding. After a brief pause, he lifted his eyes.

"Harry is not at his aunt and uncle's house." His voice was quiet, and slid into the silence without breaking it. They knew what he said already. "How has this happened?"

Every eye in the room slid to Mundungus Fletcher.

Mundungus rose, shakily, unable to ignore that everyone-even Dumbledore-was waiting for him to speak. He cleared his dry throat nervously. "Look, now, ya can't pos'bly blame dis on me-" There were a few mutters, and the terrible atmosphere was shattered. Despite their disgust, he was emboldened by the noises in contrast to the eerie quiet. "C'mon, now, I have the _night _shift, I weren't 'specting to see Harry, of _course _I didn't notice him missun, prolly dint even leave at night, wha 'bout the person afore me-" This time it was not just mutters that came from the Order members. A few stood up in fury as they spoke harshly to Mundungus, angered.

"Are you trying to say something, Dung-"

"Are you thick?! Who would kidnap someone in broad daylight! Of course it was during your shift, you moron-"

"How do we know you weren't doing some of your smuggling, you dirty liar-"

Don't think you can pin this on others, Dung-!"

"How _dare_ you be so selfish-"

"We don't want to hear your excuses! You lazy, cowardly scum-"

"Are you trying to say he was taken on _my _watch-?!"

"SILENCE!"

"…"

Dumbledore was glaring at the Order, such an unnatural look that they quailed immediately. Slowly, they sat down.

"Thank you." His icy gaze encompassed the room; they all felt suddenly very small and guilty. "Now, Mundungus, did you notice nothing out of sort on your watch?"

"I-well-actually-" Mundungus was shaking a little. Dumbledore let him off with a lot, but…

"Mundungus?"

"I… I was a-actually looking into a few cheap antiques, real good prices, heh…" His weak voice trailed off. Dumbledore said nothing, staring at him silently. Mundungus gazed back, wide-eyed, and then swiftly sprang to his feet, twisted, and with a loud CRACK was gone. Dumbledore gazed at the seat he had been in a long moment, and then turned back to the order.

"Alastor-?"

* * *

"Okay, do you have your portkeys?"

"Yes, mother."

"Okay… Um… Do you have the anti-jinx pendant-"

"_Yes, _for the third time."

"Okay, what about-"

"Yes, yes, and YES!" Tom glared at Henry. "Henry, calm down already. It's just a raid. We'll have at least two hundred inferi at our backs, not to mention the current dark lord-stop worrying about it!"

"But what if something goes wrong!"

Tom stared at him a moment, then shook his head with slight disgust. "How you're of Grindelwald's get, Henry, I'll never understand."

Ignoring the jab, Henry continued. "Tom, I'm serious-I don't care how powerful you are-"

"And you, too-"

"And me, too, then!" Henry glared. "Point is, there will be _adult _witches and wizards there, and for all our confidence and power that won't mean anything if we don't know how to act. We're still completely green-"

"Yes, we are, and we'll _stay _that way if we never dare to go on raids!" Tom gave him a dirty look. "And remember, its Voldemort on raids!"

"Yeah, yeah," Henry gave up. He knew, for all Tom tried to hide it, that the Slytherin was just as anxious as he… Well, nearly as anxious, anyway. Tom normally wasn't so short with him. He knew his friend had a point- they needed experience.

* * *

"Shit! Aurors!"

"I thought the inferi got them all?"

"They must have called back-up too quick-"Tom shot a few spells in rapid succession at the group. One auror went down from a blasting curse, wounded, but the others were deflected. Henry grabbed the nearest inferi, ignoring the revulsion he felt from the dead flesh. The vacant, glazed eyes looked to him blankly.

"Half of the inferi closest to aurors, focus on them," Henry hissed, then shoved the dead body away. He dared not rise his voice in the mayhem lest he call the aurors attention to him and Tom-_Voldemort_-but the spell on the inferi would let all hear the order given to one. Seemingly without cause all the inferi nearest the aurors turned to them, leaving a few abandoned victims to scurry away.

This raid was the sixth Tom and Henry had been in. This was an unusual sort of village, because the magic folk here lived peacefully side-by-side with muggles who knew of their existence. The ministry would have outlawed it, but all the muggles here had known for generations-it seemed pointless. These and similar areas were prime targets for Grindelwald and followers.

In some of the raids, a few of Grindelwald's supporters came along, all respectful to the masked teens who they knew were superiors-even if they didn't know why. Henry on raids wore an odd black mask shaped like a horse's face. He had slit-like eyes and a very thin opening over the mouth to breath and speak easier. Tom wore a bone-white mask with large eye-holes and several vertical rectangles over the mouth-he looked like a death-eater. Both their hoods were up.

"What now?" Henry hissed. "Fight or flight?"

Tom raised his wand, aimed at an auror, and opened his mouth to answer… Only to stop short as he saw a new group of aurors appear. The two leaders of the groups said something to each other, than began attacking the inferi with fire. Another larger group apparated into existence near the other two. And then another group, and another… They stopped coming, then, but now there seemed to be at least eighty of them. One or two natives of the town, emboldened, began casting their own spells as opposed to cowering and running.

"…Flight." It looked like Tom had difficulty uttering the phrase; he hated running. But it seemed the wisest thing to do. Only inferi had accompanied them on this trip. Easily replaceable. They, on the other hand…

"Agreed."

Simultaneously, they twisted… And nearly fell as nothing happened.

"Oh, shit…" an anti-apparation ward.

"Portkeys, Henry." Henry could tell Tom was uneasy as well. Without hesitation they took out their emergency portkeys. "Quickly, now, the aurors will notice us soon…" Henry didn't see how they hadn't so far- an immobile ring of inferi had gathered around them as the aurors appeared, as per their orders. The still group in all the chaos stood out like a sore thumb.

"Ready?" At Henry's nod of affirmation, Tom tapped the portkey twice with his wand. "Right-one…two….THREE!"

Nothing happened.

"Oh, shit…" an anti-portkey ward.

"Stop that!" Tom snapped.

"This is no time to argue!" Henry said severely. "Now, think. We either have to find a way out, or fight. And, honestly, the inferi are getting low."

"They'll notice us any second."

"They will," Henry agreed. He reached over to touch the shoulder of one of the zombies. "Hey, little conspicuous here- move it, guys." The inferi obediently joined the fight with their quickly decreasing comrades.

"Damn it!" This time Tom was doing the cursing. "The aurors have spread out, and I swear there are even more of them than before- they must be apparating from outside the ward. We're surrounded."

"Know any spells for this kind of thing, Voldemort?"

"Well, I know one that would cause the ground to explode rather fantastically…" Henry looked at him hopefully.

"Really?"

"Yes, actually, but I'm not a kamikaze, thank you." Henry deflated. It would take them out, too. Dammit. Henry opened his mouth to respond, then blanched and jerked back as a spell flew right past his nose. Tom stayed still, unfazed.

Bastard.

"They've seen us."

"Yes."

"Put your hands where we can see them and your wands on the ground!" The leading auror yelled with authority. They had, indeed, been finally noticed-even if it had taken a ridiculously long time. A group of about half a score of aurors was advancing on them warily, and they knew others would notice soon and come to the aurors' aid. They were wearing black cloaks and masks-the only two Dark supporting mortals in a field of falling inferi. Easily recognizable. Only a few of them were left. A thought came to Henry.

"_Tom?"_ He murmured in parseltongue.

"_Yes?"_

"_Cover me." _Tom frowned, but raised his wand without further question. Henry transformed.

The aurors could not stop their gasps as the magnificent black Pegasus was revealed, and every eye widened-pegasi were light creatures, not dark! And black pegasi were unheard of! Tom got the idea immediately, and leapt onto his back. Henry leapt into the air and flew off strongly without further preamble. It took a few moments before the aurors gathered their wits enough to send spells after them, but those few that came near the swift form of Henry were easily batted aside by Tom. Even as Tom laughed loudly at the frantic aurors, he sent down a spell of his own-but this was not aimed at anyone in particular.

FiendFyre.

Would it destroy their own inferi? Undoubtedly. But they would go down, anyway. Even as Tom watched and Henry tried to put some distance between them and the place he saw several aurors go alight.

He grinned.

* * *

_**Grindelwald Supporters Send FiendFyre at Aurors!**_

_Yesterday evening, the quiet little town of Grisdm was attacked by supporters of the dark lord Grindelwald. The most worrying part of this, however, is that it seems only two wizards (or is it one?) caused the mayhem. Over a hundred inferi accompanied them, and caused most damage to the town._

_The aurors managed to corner two wizards wearing masks, after setting up apparition and portkey wards. Just when they believed to have the two caught, one morphed into a Pegasus. No current Pegasus animagus is registered, and magical forms are not believed possible anyway, whether by transformation or other spells, leaving this reporter baffled._

"_It was terrible-a big, black beast with two signs like waves on its sides," an auror present at the scene states. "Poseidon! That was the word that sprang to my mind- maybe not a god, but some terrible spirit it surely was. I'll never forget the look of that monster."_

_At this point the second wizard, believed to be the Lord Voldemort rumored to be apprenticing under Grindelwald, who was riding his companion, shot FiendFyre back at the auror, causing terrible destruction. The current casualties are 36 of 92 aurors at the scene dead, 42 injured. Casualties of the town are as yet untallied._

_The aurors vow to be alert for this pair in the feature, but it seems this Poseidon is etching a legacy worthy of his fierce namesake._

"…Poseidon. Nice."

"Tom, shut up."

* * *

**A/N: Is it good? I'm a little wary bout the Poseidon thing, but I have a minor obsession with him and wanted to fit it in somewhere. And, in any case, Lord Henry just doesn't have that ring to it. So, what's you opinion on Lord Poseidon?**

**Please Review!**


	9. Suspicous Behaviour

Chap 9

**A/N: Sorry! Got a new computer, didn't have word for over a month. Gr. Didn't mean to keep anyone waiting, but… yeah. Sorry its so short; I really didn't want to leave anyone waiting any longer, and I suppose a small chapter is better than nothing. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own this, I make no money from this, it is JK Rowling's, not mine, meh…**

* * *

"Dumbledore's going to be a problem."

Tom glanced up at him from the book he was reading, frowned, and marked the page. He shifted it aside and turned his attention to Henry. "Do you think Dumbledore will want to interfere that much with Grindelwald? It's not Britain's war, not really; they don't want to get tangled with Germany."

"Perhaps." Actually, Henry knew Dumbledore would be involved-and he would play quite a role in Grindelwald's defeat. "But I think he will suspect _something._ He's already suspicious after the events of last year; he will be watching you more closely than ever, and I as well by association."

"Association!" Tom snorted in disgust. "Pah! After your little display in the common room? The walls have ears, Grendel; You are a fool if you think he watches you only because of me."

Henry waved a hand through the air, dismissing the turn in conversation. "Yes, yes, maybe- but that's not the point. I know you did at least a little recruiting in school, from what I heard. How will your little Death-Eaters come to be with Dumbledore watching your every move?"

"_Death-Eaters?"_

"Oops." Henry smiled unrepentantly. "Your followers. Foul name, isn't it?"

"…Actually, I kind of like it."

"You would." Henry snorted in disgust.

* * *

"So, who's our first victim?" Henry flashed a smirk at his friend, in a good mood thanks to his return to school. He had enjoyed the summer, but raids honestly were a little stressful, and little else really got done. Grindelwald didn't really trust either with much else, all though he did (rarely) give a grudging praise to their flawless raids.

Before his fourth year, Henry thought, he would have never believed himself able to do such acts. He had, though he would admit it to no one, felt cold with terror at the thought of his first raid. He had known that it would seal what he had become-there was no turning back. Still, after the initial nervousness the whole mess had been almost astonishingly easy to deal with. He had adapted quickly to the life he previously would have found disgusting and terrible. He did not know what it was-his blood or just his true personality-but all the effects of Dumbledore's manipulations seemed _mostly _gone. He still showed a little more sympathy than Tom and his grandfather, he knew, and where they might kill swiftly in anger he held his temper in. But he was no longer going to lay and take everything; he molded the future now.

"Don't call them that." Tom rolled his eyes, exasperated. Time was maturing him quickly. He was growing more and more grim, more serious. That didn't mean he wasn't still a teenager, though. Henry vowed he would keep at least a little of his old Tom alive. "…At least not in public, anyway. You'll scare them all off!" Henry suppressed a grin. There he was!

"Minions, then?"

"Would _you _want to be called a minion?"

"…"

"Didn't think so." He rolled his eyes. "Slytherin! You're the most unsubtle one I've ever met."

"_Me?_" An image of Crabbe and Goyle popped into his head. "Ugh. Trust me, future Slytherins…" an image of spoiled Draco Malfoy whining to his father popped up. "…I can't even find the right words to use!" he shuddered a little. Tom shook his head, though this time a little more thoughtful-probably, Henry thought wryly, wondering how useful -or not- his future recruits may be.

Poor Tom.

"Anyway, not the point." Henry watched the windows speculatively. The platform was milling with life, students and parents looking harried as they hurried through the mass. Tom and Henry had, of course, arrived early. "Slytherins are good to try and recruit, of course, and I should think a majority would be ecstatic to join. But everyone naturally distrusts Slytherins. We'll need more than just them, for this to get anywhere at all…"

Tom just nodded, of course. Henry was sure he was well aware of the needs for more followers than just the loyal snakes. "Yes-Hufflepuffs, even if they're not supposedly very smart or strong, are in that house for a reason-loyalty. That would be a valuable trait."

"Perhaps-so long as it is us they are loyal to, of course."

"Yes, that will be the main problem with recruits-weeding out the spies and cowards." Tom's fingers rapped the seat thoughtfully. "A spell or a potion, maybe, for traitors- but that's not going to show us the cowards."

"Just have to trust instinct there," Henry said.

"Hmmph."

* * *

"Enjoy the feast!" Dippet finished. He raised his arms, eliciting gasps from shocked first-years as food appeared at the tables. Henry casually took some food, eyes scanning the new first years. Two of them looked rather promising, not reacting at all-at least not outwardly-to the appearance of the food. The others, however, had not managed to hide their feelings quite so well. One of those nine caught himself, quickly placing his mask back on seconds later. Hmm. A definite maybe. But then, first appearances couldn't tell everything about a person. He would have to watch all the new snakes carefully. He caught Tom's eye, nodding almost imperceptibly to show he had seen someone worth recruiting. Best to start young, of course. Tom nodded back, eyes flickering to the Ravenclaws, whose table was next to theirs. Tom had felt at least one new Ravenclaw must seem promising. Apparently he'd been right.

"What do you think of the new teacher?" Henry asked mildly. Two questions were there. _"Do you think he's a supporter of Grindelwald?" _Grindelwald wasn't letting them in on secrets of his followers…yet, anyway.

""Have to wait 'til class; doesn't look too bad." Tom glanced over the new Defence teacher speculatively. The man hadn't shown any emotion so far, so it was hard to tell. He ignored both teachers on either side of him-one, Dumbledore, a Gryffindor, and the other, Slughorn, a Slytherin. If perhaps one of the most unsubtle ones there was. Either way there was no indication as to those preferences. It didn't really make too much of a difference, Henry supposed, but a more Slytherin-inclined teacher may be more lenient with them. Always know you strengths.

"I suppose not," Henry agreed. "Can't be worse than the last."

"If he is, I shudder to contemplate the future of Hogwarts." Tom wrinkled his nose. "Pah! How does anyone expect us to even pass our exams with teachers like these?" Last year's teacher had been fairly bad, but Henry knew that Tom, like himself, had gotten an 'O' in the subject.

"I did _terrible _on Defence O.W.L.s," a voice interjected. Henry, hiding a smirk, looked up at the grimacing face of one of their classmates. Lewis Nott. A niggling idea of a Slytherin in his own year popped into his head. This Nott had to be related to the one in his year.

"It's not your fault," Tom assured. "We can't help if we have terrible teachers. And I'm sure it isn't that bad." Two other Slytherins nearby made no attempt to disguise their own listening. Henry watched them from the corner of his eye.

"I got an A!" He sounded disgusted with himself. "_Barely!_" He sighed. "What about you?"

Tom and he glanced at each other. "'O's," Tom told him, looking abashed.

The boy groaned.

"Did you really?" The three conversing looked over to see the two Henry had noticed, openly interested. "We only had 'E's."

Nott groaned again.

Henry plastered a look of sympathy on his face as he glanced at Nott, doing his best to keep the smirk off his face. He was rather certain Tom was doing the same.

"Problems on the practical, or the theory?" Henry asked curiously. He wondered a moment if the three were aware they were being manipulated. Being Slytherins, they likely were-if perhaps not to what extent. But they probably didn't find the conversation threatening enough to be on guard.

Fools.

* * *

When Henry and Tom, followed now by their new 'friends', Nott and the Tinol twins (who themselves were of a very impressive background) entered Transfiguration, they did not expect anything other than the usual. They expected the usual indifference from Dumbledore while the teacher praised the Gryffindors, 'twinkling', as the Slytherins liked to say, for his eyes always sparkled in a very annoying and disturbing way when not extremely upset. They did not expect him to act any differently, but he did.

"Hello!" Dumbledore beamed as they entered, eyes twinkling full force. "Wonderful to see you all again!"

The Slytherins exchanged looks.

What was Dumbledore doing? He always tried to appear fair, but everyone knew he held Slytherins in disdain.

Throughout the lesson Dumbledore seemed overly-kind to them, watching them carefully throughout the lesson. Henry wondered what was going on, and after a minute realized he was only acting oddly to Tom, himself, and their three oblivious future-death-eaters. The other Slytherins were treated normally, and Henry could not help but notice Dumbledore's attentions were distracted and subdued as he switched his gaze or words to the other four. Whatever the reason was for Dumbledore's behavior, it seemed to be revolving around him.

At the end of class Dumbledore called him back.

"Mr. Grendel?"

Feigning nonchalance Henry turned back. Tom glanced back with a friend's suitable look of curiosity, glanced at Henry, and then left. Henry knew Tom's mind was working furiously as he tried to figure out Dumbledore's motives for this odd lesson.

Henry looked to his professor curiously as the door quietly snicked shut. "Yes, Sir?"

"Mr. Grendel, I have discussed the circumstances of your enrollment here with the Headmaster." Dumbledore's face was solemn, as were his words, but he was revealed by the glittering of his eyes. What was Dumbledore playing at? "If you would agree, we feel it could be beneficial for you to take lessons with myself, for your own protection while fleeing from the supporters of Grindelwald."

Henry's mind whirled. Private lessons? With Dumbledore? An automatic part of his mind shouted 'no', but something stilled him.

Dumbledore was, after all, a very powerful wizard. He would have to be wary, but this could be very helpful. And, really, how suspicious would it be if he denied them?

Well aware of the need for an appropriate response, Henry timed his reactions carefully. He first showed shocked disbelief, not at all faked. Next came a very faked awe and delight, and then this was replaced by a disgustingly false façade of gratitude and relief, as though Dumbledore were the answer to all his problems.

"I'd be honored, Sir!" He beamed, but was careful to not look too enthusiastic. That would only look more suspicious. Dumbledore seemed satisfied, smiling that same twinkly-eyed smile.

"I'll get back to you on times, then," Dumbledore told him. He nodded to Henry. "Now, if you don't hurry you'll miss your next class."

"Of course, Sir." He smiled happily at his professor and took his leave. As soon as he closed the door behind him his face fell to a speculating worry.

He needed to talk to Tom.

* * *

"Well, it's rather obvious you will look suspicious-an exchange student in the middle of a war, much less a shifty _Slytherin, _would be watched closely anyway. But Dumbledore obviously wants you to trust him." Tom frowned, his brows creased seriously. Henry had a feeling he was more talking to himself than to Henry, but he listened anyway. "You're association with me doesn't help, but I wonder if he's suspicious with your connections to Grindelwald."

"How could he be?" Henry shifted, trying to get comfortable-the Chamber of Secrets was perfect for secret discussions, but not really made for comfort. "I don't think there's anything that should give him any ideas. We've kept pretty quiet…"

"Quiet? After the chamber business last year?" Tom rolled his eyes. "Of _course _he's suspicious. Anyway, really, as I said before, don't you remember that scene in the common room last year? Not everyone in Slytherin is with Grindelwald. Then there's your last name and looks-_Grendel, _of all things, and the very image of a youthful Dark-Lord. Normally I don't think he would pay attention to those last two, but combined with the other factors…"

"Alright, alright, I get it, I'm an idiot."

"Yes, you are," Tom agreed, unfazed. "But that's not the point. Anyway, this could be to our advantage, but you'll have to be careful. Unlike Dumbledore we're not in such a good position to find out more about our enemy, considering he is a teacher and we are students. Tread carefully!"

Henry sighed a little and nodded his head warily. This seemed to close the discussion, and Tom rose. Henry followed, but as they left he paused, remembering an idea that had occurred to him earlier that day.

"Tom?"

Tom glanced at him. "What?"

"Do you know any wandless magic?"

* * *

**Please R&R**

**P.S.-I promise this won't be a super-harry! Don't be fooled by the wandless magic thing!**


	10. The Road To Hell

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A/N: Hi! Sorry for waiting so long. I got a little stuck with the plot, but I think I should be posting more often now, especially when summer starts. Anyway, sorry it's so short, but I thought it was better than nothing; I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.

And, of course, I would like to thank DreamOfStories for betareading this, which has been a great help!

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Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter.

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_**The Road To Hell...**__

* * *

_

Why had he never thought of it before?\

Wandless magic! Very difficult to perform, but in a way this only made it more to their advantage - it was so rare no one could expect an opponent to wield it. A very helpful surprise when your wand was stolen.

Tom had reacted to the idea with enthusiasm - or as much enthusiasm as he possessed, anyway - but had rejected Henry's next idea of mailing his grandfather for help on the matter.

"Owls can be intercepted." he pointed out. "You're careful with coding your mail, I know, which is sent scarcely enough, but however you try to phrase this, an interest in wandless magic is a little unusual."

"There's a war, and I'm supposedly running from it. Can't the poor, orphaned teen want to learn to defend himself?"

"Last I checked you hadn't said anything about being orphaned, you idiot, and unless you want some awkward questions I would keep it that way. "

"Yeah, yeah." Henry gave up on trying to convince Tom. His gaze flickered to a clock in the room. "Anyway, I have the first lesson with Dumbledore… Urgh."

Tom snorted. "_You _accepted."

"How could I say no?" He glanced at the clock again. Henry stood, nodded solemnly to his friend, and left the room, looking as though he was walking to a funeral.

Tom snickered.

* * *

"Henry, come in, come in." Dumbledore smiled as he saw Henry at his door, pleased. Henry smiled back, making himself look a little nervous but excited. When Dumbledore turned to lead his into the room he sneered at the wizard's back. He followed Dumbledore in, the smile returning as he saw the Transfiguration teacher turn. His jaw hurt with the effort.

"Now, these lessons should be mostly practical, I think, if we want you to become adept at defending yourself. First, before we start anything else, your current level should be assessed."

Ah. Was that the point of this? To figure out if Henry was a threat? But why did he even care to check? He nodded to show his understanding. Dumbledore took out his wand, and Henry followed suit.

"On three," The old man said pleasantly. "One… Two…"

Now, Henry could likely beat everyone in his year in a duel, with Tom as an exception, simply because he had more experience. A trained and skilled auror, well, perhaps not, but it all depended on the circumstances. On raids, for example, those they attacked were mostly too panicked to accomplish anything. The aurors that showed were not taken in formal duels but attacked quickly and, if possible, underhandedly. But this was not to say he could not hold his own in a duel; Grindelwald and Tom had been helping him in this area all summer, after all.

Still, he didn't need to let Dumbledore know this. It was always good to keep a trick or two up your sleeve. But then, Dumbledore would suspect something if he was too poor a dueler…

"Three!"

Henry immediately threw up a shield, deflecting the quick wordless jinx Dumbledore threw his way. A little impressed, the elder wizard tried a few quick stunners next. Henry dodged these physically and flung out his arm, using a wordless freezing hex. His teacher barely dodged.

"Impedimenta!"

"Stupefy!"

"Redimio!"

Dumbledore ducked the binding spell easily so Henry changed tactics and shot an explosion charm at the wizard's feet. Not expecting such a move from an unexperienced student Dumbledore was caught off guard, barely stepping back in time to avoid falling in the hole or being hit with debris. Henry rapidly shot a few more silent _Redimios, _none of which, unfortunately for him, hit the mark.

The future headmaster began pressing harder now, testing him. He shot a few curses toward him Henry did not recognize, picking up speed. Next he conjured birds which dove for the startled teen. Henry conjured up a miniature dragon himself, a difficult spell, which easily took on the distracting birds. Dumbledore animated the chair behind Henry, and Henry with a flick of his hand commanded the dragon to flame the chair. With a jab of his wand a rain cloud appeared above Dumbledore's head, drenching him. He was unfazed, merely continuing to send spells at Henry - until the rain cloud began shooting out lightning. Henry couldn't kill the Headmaster of Hogwarts, not yet, and so instead had made the spell purposely weak. The lightning should only stun him a little. The older wizard was strong, however, and though he stumbled did not fall. He batted the cloud away with a quick spell and raised his hand to halt the duel.

Dumbledore gave him a long, appraising look, both approving and a little troubled, and Henry realized with chagrin he may have given away more than he had meant. Finally the wizard gave him a small smile.

"Well, first let us go over the flaws on both our parts in that duel…"

* * *

_One week later_

"Found anything yet?" Tom's voice was muffled behind the stack of books.

"Nothing! You?"

"Just a few references here and there - how wandless magic is helpful in the situation here, how this spell is impossible with wandless magic, but nothing on actually _using _it."

"More than I've found," Henry grumbled to himself. Tom paused, an odd expression crossing his face, and he abruptly stood and came over to Henry. Curious, the ex-Gryffindor looked up at the teen. Tom pushed Henry's book up, saw the title, then dropped the book and smacked Henry on the back of his head.

"Hey!" Henry grimaced, rubbing at his head. "What was that for?"

"You idiot!" Tom was exasperated. "You're searching for books on _wandless magic, _a rare and apparently difficult, nearly secret magic, and you're not looking in the restricted section?"

"How on earth could I get in their?" Henry sputtered.

"Are you a Slytherin or not? Just ask Slughorn! Even an idiot could see that. He'd give you a full pass without question."

Henry blinked, considering this…

"…Oh."

* * *

"Professor?" Slughorn smiled cheerfully at Henry as the last of the potions students left the class.

"Yes, Mr. Grendel?" He asked brightly. "Is this about the slug-club?"

"Er, no, sir… Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something. You see, I had heard about the magical creatures Grindelwald has been using, and I was hoping to look some of them up in the library, considering my position." Slughorn nodded. This made sense, and if Dumbledore heard it could be explained away. Dumbledore was, after all, just giving him dueling tips, nothing else. "But, most of the creatures Grindelwald would use are in the Restricted Section…"

"So you need a note!" Slughorn nodded sympathetically. "Of course, of course!" He quickly took out a quill, ink, and parchment and scribbled something down. He handed it to Henry. "And, about the slug club…"

"When's the next meeting, professor?" Henry asked innocently. He pocketed the note.

Slughorn beamed. "Why, this Friday! Well, not a meeting - a party! I'm inviting a werewolf I know…"

Henry's face showed true interest. "Really…"

* * *

"A slug club party!" Tom shuddered. "Henry, I'm going to kill you."

"Haven't yet." Henry smirked at his glowering friend. "And quite whining, it won't be much help in convincing the minions to come along."

"Calling them minions isn't very helpful either."

"Hmmph."

Henry spotted Lewis Nott, as well as Majuin and Cerlus Tinol. Nudging Tom, he nodded toward them discreetly. Tom nodded, and they walked over to sit down casually. The three looked a little surprised; the two had a reputation for sticking to themselves, and they had half thought the two would forget about them.

Tom smiled, and though his smile was easy, Henry could tell he was laughing inside.

"Have you ever been to a Slug Club party…"

* * *

"This is _not _gaining us any points with the minions," Henry said with amusement. He glanced back toward their three 'friends', who were seated with Slughorn, now rambling about who-knows-what. Tom had, of course, charmed Slughorn into allowing them to search for the werewolf. "What was the point of bringing them here again?"

Tom shrugged. "If nothing else they'll feel included, even if they're not… Oh, there he is!"

Henry spotted him as well, a tall, dark-haired man with long curly hair. His eyes were amber, and he watched the students milling around with calculating suspicion. They gave him a wide berth.

Now, Henry and Tom were, of course, above all else looking for _magic _supremacy. Muggles, in their opinion, had outlived any use they once had. Some would argue if they called them fools, but how could they be called anything else?

They were cruel, Tom and Henry knew that first-hand. They were biased, easily seen by the witch-burnings. And they were destroying the world, which was strongly tied to magic, and thus they damaged the very way of life for wizards.

Now, despite what some blood-traitors thought, they did _not _look down upon werewolves or vampires - or most of them didn't, anyway. Werewolves, Vampires, Centaurs, Merpeople, Goblins – they were all magic, and thus accepted. If anything they were _more _a part of magic then most witches or wizards.

And that was why it was vital they had them as allies.

The werewolf had been looking in a different direction when they approached, but when they came near he snapped his head toward them, nostrils flaring, eyes wide. Henry had read that magical creatures could _smell _magic, in great enough amounts; was this one of those times? Were he and Tom that strong? Apparently.

The werewolf eyed them suspiciously.

"Hello." Tom smiled, eyes flashing as he assessed the werewolf. Henry watched as well, silent-Tom was without a doubt the better speaker of the two. "I am…"

"Lord Voldemort."

Tom stared.

The werewolf smiled darkly, flashing pearly white teeth too long to belong to a human. "Yes, I recognize your scent - I watched one of the raids. Your smell is very distinctive - and yours as well, Lord Poseidon…" Tom's lips twitched at Henry's name, which Henry ignored. The werewolf did not notice. "I am Fekete Farkas."

"Yes, you are," Tom observed wryly. "And considering you are not attacking us or yelling for Slughorn…"

Fekete smirked. "Let's talk somewhere more private, shall we?"

* * *

The room the three entered was silent, far enough from Slughorn's room that nothing of the party was heard. But Tom took no chances, quickly taking out his wand and placing quick warding spells on the door before this Fekete could speak. The werewolf smiled, a little impressed.

"How very interesting this is," he commented. "Two of Grindelwald's most favored little soldiers, apparently rising in the ranks quite quickly, and mere Hogwarts students… Tell me, what business is it of yours to interfere with Germany's war?"

"Our business is our own," Tom said coolly. "I am more curious as to knowing your intentions." He did not lower his wand after putting up the wards.

"If you were not I would be wasting my time," Fekete told the teen. "But keep your secrets, then. In any case that is not why I kept my silence. My sire, and indeed a large amount of my pack, is allied with Grindelwald, though Horace has turned a blind eye to this, it seems. Unfortunately my pack will not allow me to even attempt to join Grindelwald." He grimaced slightly. "They fear he would not allow me to leave alive - I am a squib."

Ah. "That makes no difference," Henry assured, forgetting his own thoughts of letting Tom do the talking. "You are no muggle, and as even a muggle werewolf possesses magic of a sort and would be given equal rights. Grandfather will accept you."

"Grand-" the werewolf paled.

"Henry, you are _terrible _with secrets," Tom told him. Henry shrugged.

"What? We need contacts, you know, and they shouldn't be kept in the dark. It will be revealed eventually anyway, to everyone"

"That casualness of yours will have you killed one day."

"So you've said." Henry turned back to the white werewolf. "So, who's your sire?"

The werewolf had to swallow before speaking, mouth dry. "…Alpha … Duskil."

Henry wondered if that was the true name, but let it go. "Alright. I'll speak to Grindelwald when I next see him, and he can talk to Duskil, which should help your alpha see the truth of the matter; are there others like you?"

"Yes; two muggle werewolves and four squibs just in my pack." Henry's eyebrows rose. Squibs were not that common, were they? Tom saw the look.

"Squibs are often abandoned," He told his friend. "Left in a magical area, alone, at night…They often become werewolves or vampires." Henry nodded in understanding. Just like my grandmother, he reflected, minus the werewolf/vampire part…

"We'll try to get the word spread about this," Henry promised Fekete. "Merlin, though… How many fight for a cause when they don't even know what they fight for?"

* * *

**A/N: Please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update... again. I'd like to thank DreamOfStories for betareading this. :)**

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**Disclaimer;I do not own Harry Potter.**

G11

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"No, no, it's swish, jab, flick, twist…"

Henry stifled a laugh as he watched an impatient Tom instruct Antonio Dolohov in the complex spell to create portkeys. It was possible to use other spells to create a portkey, but though this had the most complicated wand movements - it required less power. And Antonio, much to the disgust of all, was not a powerful wizard by any reckoning. He _did _have a good inheritance headed his way though, which promised connections. Why couldn't anyone be powerful _and _rich?

"Why can't we just _buy _portkeys if we need them?" grumbled an irritated seventh-year, Damon Rosier, who had also expressed an interest in learning the spell. Henry cast him an irritated look.

"And if you have need of a portkey in an important situation, Rosier? Will the world pause until you can buy your portkey?" Rosier said nothing, avoiding the icy gaze of the second most influential person in Slytherin, and quietly tried the spell again.

The implications behind Henry's statement were clear. Rumors were slowly circulating about Tom Riddle and Henry Grendel being supporters of Grindelwald – only in Slytherin, of course. The rest of the school seemed mostly unaware of these rumors, and Henry marveled at how tightly knit the houses were. Did no Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw have an ear in Slytherin? It did not seem so.

This made Henry consider his conversation with Tom at the beginning of the year, and he made a mental note to look for potential minions… er, death eaters… in other houses as well.

Henry leaned back in his seat, watching the Slytherins carefully, as he saw Tom was doing also. They now had eleven 'minions' in this house – Lewis Nott and the Tinol twins, sixth years, Rosier and Dolohov, seventh years, Orion Black – the Black looked so much like Sirius it was disturbing – seventh year, Vetuil and Yulinda Malfoy, fifth years, and Harrison Flint – no doubt a relative of some sort to future Marcus Flint – fourth year, along with Ulysses Nertin and Jenil Duil, seventh years.

Wizards, Henry decided, had very strange names.

Henry eyed them thoughtfully. These were those whom he and Tom could now confidently say would follow them when they revealed their purposes. Several others from Slytherin and a few Ravenclaws – and even a single Hufflepuff – could be seen having tentative conversations with Tom and Henry. It was only now approaching Halloween, and yet already great strides had been made in gathering future death-eaters. These eleven, however, were the core of their supporters. Even if they didn't _know, _exactly, that they were supporters. Yet, anyway.

Tom caught Henry's eye, then stood, watching the group and waiting. After a moment the Slytherins in their dorm realized that Tom seemed to be waiting for their attention, and quieted. Tom let his gaze sweep over them coolly. The group shifted nervously, and Henry smirked a little, rising to stand beside his friend. Tom allowed them to squirm awhile, and then finally began speaking.

"Today Henry and I have deemed it the appropriate time to allow you privy to certain information. We have an offer for you we think you will be happy to receive." His proud stance seemed almost regal as his eyes swept across the eleven students, sight lingering on each. "We give you the chance to be the first to join the forces of Henry and myself, who are allied to Gellert Grindelwald."

Silence.

Then… laughter.

Tom and Henry glared icily at Antonin Dolohov, the only student who dared to laugh at their proposition. He seemed overcome with mirth, but abruptly stopped laughing as he realized he was the only one doing so. Incredulous, he stared around at the serious faces about him.

"You… You're joking, right?"

"I do not joke, Dolohov."

"But…" Antonin was flabbergasted. "But – you're just sixth years! If we wanted to join anyone, we would join Grindelwald, not you two! Allied with the dark lord! You're just wannabes!"

Tom's eyes darkened, as did Henry's. "So, you would join Grindelwald, if given the chance?"

"Well, of course – "

"Alright, then, this is settled." Tom smiled coldly, waving a hand mockingly toward Henry. "Dolohov, meet Henry Grindelwald, heir to the dark lord."

The air in the room thickened impossibly, the other Slytherins cringing back, but Dolohov, blinded by his own arrogance, was oblivious. "Humph! And do you have any _proof_ of this?" From the way he spoke he seemed very certain that they did not.

Now Henry stepped forward for the first time. "Have you heard of a Lord Poseidon in the papers?" He questioned. His blue eyes were chips of ice, his voice soft but carrying, and for the first time Dolohov felt unease and doubt.

And then Henry began to change. Purposely making the change slow, drawing out the moment expertly, Henry turned to his Pegasus form.

Dolohov's face went white.

"As you can see," Tom said mildly, "We are not in any way joking. You may have heard of me, as well; I am known as Voldemort, and am the last heir of Slytherin."

The Slytherins were stunned by this rapid change of events, but immediately knew they had only one choice – to follow these young dark lords in their cause. They would not dare go against the will of such powerful wizards, and certainly not when they had no reason to. These two believed in the same cause as Grindelwald, after all, and most Slytherins had considered whether or not to join his ranks.

Majuin Tinol was the first to rise, her brother standing quickly after her. "We will follow you," she vowed. Her brother agreed, and the rest of the Slytherins quickly followed suit, until Dolohov was the only one still silent. The rest turned to him.

Dolohov took a deep breath, shuddering slightly, still in a bit of shock. He raised his eyes to the faces around him.

"I will follow you."

* * *

By Halloween, it was evident to the more perceptive students that something had changed in the group dynamics of those thirteen. Tom and Henry had always commanded a subtle respect from the others. They were, after all, the two most powerful wizards in Slytherin. But now the other eleven had adapted a definite subservient attitude around these two. The students were not the only ones to notice.

Albus Dumbledore had, at first, begun to doubt his suspicions of Henry Grendel. He might be a friend of Tom Riddle, who Albus was almost certain was a heir of Slytherin, and he might be powerful, but that did not necessarily _mean _anything. Teens sometimes spent time around people they didn't even like, for one reason or another – popularity, power, influence, respect. And Henry was, after all, a Slytherin. He was very polite, and seemed rather kind, if a little quiet. But he feared that Tom would tempt Henry to Grindelwald's side if he did not soon intervene. It was clear Tom was already gaining followers of his own. This thought made up his mind; he needed to give the powerful Henry ties to the light side of the war.

The day before Halloween saw another one of their private lessons. Henry was dueling very well now, by both his reckoning and that of Dumbledore. He was nearly on level with Tom, though it seemed the other Slytherin would always be the better wizard. But he could hold his own against Dumbledore, for a time, which was quite a feat in itself.

Dumbledore watched Henry quietly as his student began attempting the spell he had shown him, a spell used to blind another temporarily. Henry managed to blind himself, and Dumbledore stood and performed the counter spell. Henry performed the task again, this time taking the spell off himself, after a few halting attempts. He was a quick learner – Dumbledore suspected he might even surpass himself one day. He was not aware that Henry held himself back in the lessons, and he would have paled at the knowledge that Tom routinely swept Henry in duels.

Dumbledore waited a few more moments, and then cleared his throat. Henry paused and looked up at him curiously.

"Henry?" Henry waited. "My dear child, you show a truly remarkable talent with dueling. Because of this, and your personal experiences with the dark lord Grindelwald, I was wondering if you would be interested in taking an active part in the war."

Henry looked puzzled. "Sir?"

"Henry, I lead a secret group called the Order of the Griffin. We work to discreetly follow the actions of Lord Grindelwald, and do what we can to help those against him. We are, of course, unknown and thus under no Ministry restrictions, which may give us an advantage the aurors do not have."

"I… I see, Sir, but – well, how could I help?"

"I was hoping, Henry, that you could watch for suspicious activity among the students. Trust no one!" Dumbledore decided it was best not to mention Tom outright – not yet. "When at all possible I will floo you to meetings, if you have no problem with this. Will you join the order?"

Henry looked troubled for a moment, which Dumbledore had expected. This was quite a large thing, after all, to be asking of a sixth year. Then, slowly, Henry nodded in agreement. "I will join."

* * *

It was a very amused Henry that met Tom in the dormitory. He feigned casualness on the way up, but as soon as he closed the door behind him Henry grinned widely, a dark glint in his eyes, and Tom stood up curiously.

Henry didn't think he had ever seen Tom laugh so hard.

* * *

One week later found a bored Henry staring at the ceiling his dorm, with Tom across the room, diligently looking for any information about wandless magic. He had finally proclaimed Henry useless at research and told him quite firmly to leave it to himself; Henry really didn't mind.

Henry was watching a very small spider trekking across the ceiling when Tom sprang up.

"Here!"

Henry jumped, looking at Tom with confusion, and then glanced back at the spider. It was gone. With a slight sigh Henry stood, stretching, and then went to see what had Tom so delighted.

"Look!" Tom looked smug. "See?"

Henry glanced over the page Tom was on. He saw nothing connected with wandless magic. He frowned. "What am I supposed to be seeing, exactly?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Are you _blind?_" Tom tapped the bottom of the page impatiently, and now Henry noticed a small note there.

_For more information on rarer forms of spellcasting such as wandless, staff, or song, refer to _A Guide to Unorthodox Magic, _available at _Kenil's Tomes.

Henry smiled. "We still don't know, though, that it will have anything useful on wandless magic. And we don't really know anything about wandless magic; for all we know you _can't _do anything stronger than a lumos with it. Staff and Song magic are pretty weak, from what I hear; having it paired with them isn't exactly reassuring."

Tom was unfazed. "I'll take that chance. Even if we can only ever manage an expelliarmus with it, it would still be unexpected to an opponent. That could be more useful than you might think."

"I somehow don't think you're expecting that to happen."

Tom just smiled.

* * *

Tom and Henry were much more cheerful the next day, looking more relaxed than they had in weeks. On Christmas Break they could look for that book store, and hopefully attain the book they needed.

But the knowledge of this book was not the end of their discoveries that week, it turned out, though this one took a little less research.

"Lord Poseidon?" Cerlus Tinol asked curiously. They always referred to Tom and Henry by their aliases in private. "I've never seen you use elemental magic - I was curious, can you use that in your animagus form?"

"What?" Henry frowned. "Elemental magic? How would I use that?"

Cerlus looked surprised. "You don't _know_?" Tom and the other five currently in the dorm in their 'inner circle' were now listening. "Those lines on your animagus form? That means you're a water elemental."

"What-" Henry was stunned.

"But…?" Cerlus was confused. "I am sorry, Lord Poseidon, but how could you not realize? Before you gain control of the element you should definitely have noticed water acting weird around you."

"I think I know why I didn't," Henry said darkly, thinking of Dumbledore's bindings on him. Had they affected this elemental magic, too? Across from him Tom grimaced. He did not know the specifics, but Henry had told him that his magic had been bound before coming to the past, and he too could guess what had happened. "Well, do you know anything about elemental magic?"

"Not much, but there's a few books collecting dust in the family library, I think. I can owl my parents; I imagine Hogwarts wouldn't have much on this particular subject, my lord."

"I imagine they wouldn't," Henry agreed. Then offering a rare smile, Henry said sincerely, "Thank you."

Cerlus beamed.

* * *

Henry was naturally curious about his elemental abilities and potential, but also very nervous; what if Dumbledore's bindings had somehow damaged them? His grandfather had assured him his magic was not harmed despite being so compressed, but then again he had not known about his grandson's elemental abilities.

Cerlus had just presented him with three thick books, and Henry was fully prepared to read them all night when the small invisible ring on his index finger, presented to him by Dumbledore after their last lesson, began to burn.

For a second he froze, foot still halfway on the first stair leading up to the dorms. Someone bumped into his back, but he took no notice, and after a moment of surprise had to fight down the hilarity that threatened to rise when he thought of Dumbledore's offer to join the Order of the Griffin.

Suppressing a grin, he hastily turned, ignoring the confused stares from those who had noticed his pause, and making a beeline for a bewildered Tom dumped the books next to him.

"_The ring's burning," _he hissed lowly, amused. Tom's eyes brightened with understanding and shared amusement, and with a quick smirk Henry left the Common Room.

* * *

"Ah, Henry, there you are! Quickly, now, we're going to be late." Henry, as always, suppressed a grimace as Dumbledore patted his shoulder. "Step into the fire and focus on the ring."

Focus on the ring? So they didn't just step in and say the destination? Interesting. Making a mental note to ask Tom and his grandfather about this, Henry did as he was told. He squeezed his eyes shut.

The uncomfortable spinning sensation soon passed, and this time Henry managed to remain upright. He opened his eyes as he stepped out of the grate. His eyes adjusted gradually, and he examined the empty room for any sign of life. This place had obviously been meant for only floo transportation.

A moment later the fire in the grate swirled, turning green, and suddenly Dumbledore was there. "Ah, good, sometimes members get lost along the floo here." And he only mentioned that _now? _"Come, come, the meeting will soon start."

Henry followed his teacher down a maze of hallways, wondering where they were. Dumbledore seemed to sense what he was thinking. "I'm sorry, Henry, but I'm afraid I can disclose our location to no one."

"Of course," said Henry. Oh, well.

They entered a long torch-lit hall now. Most of the room was bare, though magnificent and detailed tapestries of various creatures adorned the walls. Close to the door was a large round table. It was lit by candles, casting shadows over the adults eerily, but Henry was unfazed.

A few stood as they spotted the child, but Dumbledore waved his hand, gesturing for them to sit, and they grudgingly did so. Dumbledore swept down to the end, waving a hand toward an empty seat on the way. Henry sat down mutely between two wizards, one elderly and one who looked barely out of Hogwarts.

"Is everyone here, then?" Dumbledore asked. There were perhaps fifty people seated around the table. "Very well. First, I would like everyone to welcome out newest member, Henry Grendel, one of the top students at Hogwarts."

A few faces darkened. "A _student, _Albus?" One middle-aged witch asked with disbelief. "You must be joking."

"I am being quite serious, I assure you. Henry is second in his grade, and I have been giving him private lessons all year. He has nearly beaten me in quite a few duels."

This seemed to appease a few, but not many. "_Second?" _asked one surly-looking wizard. "Wouldn't _first _be better, Albus?"

Dumbledore's face darkened a moment. "Normally… Perhaps. But it is partly because of the first student, a good friend of Henry's, I considered having him watch the students at Hogwarts. I am sorry, Henry, but I believe that your friend Tom supports Grindelwald; and, more than this is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin and the one who unleashed the monster in the Chamber of Secrets just a year ago."

Those around Henry froze, stunned, but Henry adopted the actions of a shocked, horrified, in-denial teenager easily. "_Tom? _No! Tom would never!"

"Wouldn't he?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Henry hesitated purposely, acting just as a shell-shocked teen should. "Well – but - …" Tom and Henry had agreed that Henry should cast suspicion on Tom, which would thus take suspicion off of Henry if he began incriminating his friend. If Henry had their trust, after all, he could be privy in secrets of this Order important to the success of their cause.

"I am sorry, Henry." Dumbledore told him. "But I am asking you to, if nothing else, keep a close watch on Tom."

Henry swallowed, than sat straighter. "I will, then, but only to prove you wrong," he said firmly. Dumbledore just nodded sadly, accepting this, and turned to other matters.

"Well, we can speak more on that later. What was this pressing news you wanted to talk about, Verrat?"

A young German man, perhaps in mid-twenties, now stood. Henry thought he looked vaguely familiar. "There's been word about Grindelwald gaining supporters from a new area. Our sources in the German Ministry say there has been a sudden, dramatic increase in the number of werewolves in Grindelwald's ranks."

The group shifted, murmuring under their breath or to each other at this disturbing news. Henry managed to look as worried as the rest, though inwardly he was cheering. Looked like Fekete had spread the word. - and he hadn't even had to talk to Grindelwald.

Most of the meeting was spent on discussing the new werewolves, and what motives they had for joining Grindelwald. The possible ramifications on other followers or potential followers were also dissected. Some more information was volunteered, but Henry couldn't help but notice there was no talk of actually _doing _anything about the situation.

Dumbledore and Henry left perhaps three hours after arriving. It was past eleven when Henry returned to the dorms.

"How did it go?" Tom asked. Henry glanced around the room to make sure their often-absent roommates were still downstairs, than smiled

"Dumbledore doesn't stand a chance."

* * *

**Please Review!**


	12. Horcruxes & Insanity

**A/N: Er, sorry for taking so long to update - I don't even have an excuse this time. Sorry! But I think I've gotten through the writer's block - the next chapter shouldn't take nearly as long, I hope...**

**Thanks to DreamOfStories for betareading this!**

* * *

**Horcruxes &Insanity**

* * *

Christmas break was approaching swiftly, and this year both Henry and Tom were eager for it to come. Not for Christmas itself, of course; many Slytherins completely ignored the holiday, and Henry had adopted this trait. On the holidays, however, both would be headed to Nurmengard, and would be able to research more on wandless magic – and elemental magic, of course. Henry had by now read through the three elemental books, but was having no luck with his ability. According to the book, with his sign he _should _be a powerful water elemental, but then he should _also _have the symbol somewhere on his body, which he did not. At one point in mid-November a student had tripped at lunch, a goblet in hand. The water _should _have drenched Henry, but it seemed to have gone everywhere around him but on his person. This was the only possible sign of elemental magic he had seen. If Henry had not been looking for it, he would have passed the incidence off without a thought.

It was only two days before break that the ring on his finger burned for the third time since he had acquired it. Henry was heading to the Common Room after dinner with Tom when he felt it. Lips twitching against his will, he caught Tom's eye with amusement.

"_One more meeting before the holidays," _he hissed.

"_Predictable. They'll probably ask you tonight."_

"_I know what to say."_

Tom had, of course, been right. The other members of the Order had for the most part forgotten about Tom, who was only briefly mentioned in the first meeting. Dumbledore, however, had not.

At the beginning of the meeting, one of the German members began by telling the Order about several raids and attacks Grindelwald had orchestrated, also bringing up an interesting point.

"'Voldemort' and 'Poseidon', who seemed to lead most of the raids in the summer, haven't been seen for months. Some speculate that Grindelwald thought them a threat and offed 'em."

"Unlikely." Dumbledore frowned in thought. "Not unless they actively went against Grindelwald. They're too powerful, I think, for him to not take advantage of."

"That's not very comforting."

Henry _was _interested when Dumbledore finally proposed they actually do something to help stop the attacks. He told them to take out their rings, spelling each, and explained that they would become icy cold when activated by a member. All members who could go would touch their wand to the ring, taking them to the location of the first member, who would be at an attack scene. Henry was not quite sure how often an Order member would be at an attack anyway, but made a mental note to talk to his grandfather about this.

Finally, at the end of the meeting, Dumbledore turned to Henry seriously. "Henry, have you noticed anything off about Mr. Riddle?"

Henry hesitated, shifting guiltily in his seat. "Well… yes, Sir. I've never noticed before – haven't wanted to notice, I guess – but… there's just something about the way the other Slytherins treat him. And I…" He lowered his voice. "I overheard a few words of conversation the other day… I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I think they were talking about Grindelwald. I _know _I heard one of them calling Tom 'my lord'."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, it is as I feared, then. I have heard rumors that Mr. Riddle is a parselmouth- ?"

"That's true," Henry confirmed.

"Henry, I'm sorry, but due to the use of snakes in several attacks it is believed that the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort is also a parselmouth. This is not a common trait…"

Henry closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat as Dumbledore continued. The other members listened nervously, wondering what sixth year could hold the power Voldemort was rumored to have. "Mr. Riddle, I have observed, does not have friends so much as allies, save for Henry here. He has the children of many powerful families at his side – the Notts, Malfoys, Blacks, Tinols…" Dumbledore shook his head. "Has Tom ever asked you about your opinions concerning magic and blood, Henry?"

"Yes. He doesn't agree with me there – believes in magical blood only. He tried to convince me away from my beliefs, but gave up eventually."

"Interesting. Well, keep a close eye on him, please Henry." Henry wondered when Dumbledore would dare to ask Henry to try and act like he had Tom's beliefs, spying on Tom more effectively– he was obviously tempted.

"Of course, Sir."

* * *

"Elemental abilities?" Grindelwald frowned at his grandson, taking the glamour away from himself distractedly as the three entered Nurmengard.

"Yes. Water, apparently."

"…Interesting, though not totally unexpected, I suppose. Our family has had quite a few elementals. Too not be aware of anything, however…" Grindelwald took out his wand. "Perhaps…" He made a few strange motions with his wand, ending in a jab. Henry felt a light tingling in his fingers. "Yes, they were mostly bound, though not, I think, intentionally. You should be able to begin using them now."

"That's it?"

"Did you expect something dramatic to happen? You'll find all necessary information on elementals in the library." Henry nodded, raising a hand to brush away an errant lock of hair, and saw the same two wavy blue lines on his arm, just in the middle of his lower arm. He smiled.

"Thank you, grandfather."

* * *

"… And when did you have time to get these?"

"On one of the raids, we raided a bunch of farms, remember? I put a stasis spell on the eggs."

"And you didn't hatch them in summer because…?"

Henry shrugged. "I forgot."

Henry finished spelling the last toad onto the chicken's egg. The fifty conjured toads croaked in protest, and Henry conjured a few flies above them. The huge room in the lower part of Nurmengard was mostly unused. "Imagine, fifty basilisks! They're nearly invincible! Though we will have to find a way to get them fed. Hm. Maybe keep rabbits?"

Tom shook his head. "Henry, you realize there's a _reason _no one has done anything like this before?"

"Because they weren't parselmouths?"

"Well, yes, but _also _because it will take decades for them to grow to any size able to fight."

"Then in fifty years or so, we'll have a small basilisk army."

"How useful," Tom said wryly.

The basilisks did not all hatch at the same time. Henry checked on them often, spelling a few simple statues to take care of them. He used a relatively new spell he found in Nurmengard's library which, if applied shortly after hatching, would let the snake use its deadly gaze only when they wished to. So soon after hatching their eyes could only stun, however. The most interesting thing to happen was when a tiny, runty basilisk hatched. From the color of its eyes Henry knew it would never have the legendary killing gaze of the basilisk, nor would it grow so large, though how long it would live he didn't know. Tom seemed pleased with the female runt, pointing out that it was still strong and its venom superior to other lesser snakes. Best of all, it wasn't technically a basilisk, and wouldn't cause much trouble by being brought to public places – like school. When the two left the room after her hatching, the small female, Nagini, went with them.

* * *

Henry's elemental abilities were not as hard to master as he had feared. He used them easily enough, if precise control was slow in the coming. Henry was in the library practicing one early morning when a pleased Tom walked in, flourishing two thin books.

Henry turned his neck to the side to read the title of one. "A Guide to Unorthodox Magic," he read aloud with surpise. "I forgot all about that."

"I sent them an owl as soon as we got here." This had been nine days ago. "Here."

Henry found the book very interesting. According to the introduction, wandless magic could be used the same as normal magic, but instead forcing the magic out of their body instead of the wand. The wand acted as a sort of lightning wand for magic – the magic flowed through you, entered the wand, and, due to the magical properties of the wood and creature part, added power to the spells. Most wandless magic was used with the same spells and movements, except the magic was focused and released from the hand. Although this was the most common way, however, wandless magic could also be used differently, depending on how much power and focus one had. Hand motions could be skipped, and with the right focus one could manipulate magic to do what they wanted without even a silent spell in mind. It was possible to focus magic from any part of the body, and with enough control one could instigate magic without apparently any effort – no hand movement, no spell shooting out, no spell, etc. This was more exhausting than normal casting, however. In addition, only wizards more powerful than average could normally cast more than a simple charm without the added power a wand provided, so success was varied.

They read through the small books quickly enough, only needing a little over two hours. They finished around the same time.

The book had recommended they first try focusing the magic through their palm or finger to levitate a feather, one of the first spells learned with wands. Both conjured feather's in front of themselves, then put away there wands. They held their hands out mutely, palms out.

_Wingardium leviosa, _Henry thought. The book had said to start with spells spoken out loud, but… _Wingardium leviosa. _He tried to imagine the familiar feeling of magic in him, willing the feather to float. Nothing happened. _Wingardium leviosa._

Henry tried many more times, then finally paused and looked at Tom as he saw movement in his peripheral vision. Tom had succeeded – predictable. Tom released the spell, trying again, and Henry turned back to his own feather, focusing on the thought of the feather rising through the air, envisioning magic pulling it through the air -

_Wingardium leviosa!_

The feather jerked up into the air violently, surprising Henry enough that he lost focus almost immediately. The feather fell, but Henry was smiling.

* * *

After Henry and Tom were satisfied they had mastered the wandless levitation charm they took a small break – which really just meant they were wandering the library. Henry plucked a random book about the Dark Arts off a shelf, noting where it was, and wandered over to a chair. He sat, flipping through to the contents. It seemed to be a book on dark objects. His eyes skimmed through the list carelessly, but he did a double-take when he saw a familiar word.

Horcrux.

Where had he seen this word? Ah, yes – Tom said he had made one. Interested, he turned to the listed page and read.

His interest changed to horror.

As soon as he finished the chapter he bolted up from his spot, skidding to a halt in front of a surprised Tom.

"Are you _mad_?"

"Huh?"

He slammed the book down in front of Tom. "You made a _horcrux?_"

"Two, actually. Why?"

"_Two?_" Henry was speechless. "You…" Yanking the book back, he flipped to the page that had so horrified him, jabbing a finger at the relevant paragraph. "Read."

Tom read.

His face drained of color.

"_Insane?_"

"Insane. What did you expect? You separated your soul - it'll be slow, but, yes, you will go insane."

"Isn't there… Can't I…"

"If you destroy the horcux, no, the soul part will be destroyed completely. It will not return to you."

Tom grabbed the book desperately, going back to the beginning of the chapter, looking for anything which could save him from insanity. Henry wearily sat down beside him, head in hands…

"Ah hah!"

"Huh?" Henry's head jerked up hopefully. "You found something?"

"If you bind the hocrux or horcruxes to another through a ritual, the anchor of two souls should be enough to stabilize them - no matter how many horcuxes are used, I think."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "And you would trust me with your soul?" he asked incredulously. It was hard to believe. Tom frowned.

"Well… I trust you _now, _but in the future…" Tom stared down at the book thoughtfully. "Want a horcrux, Henry?"

"Excuse me?"

"According to the book…"

"You want us to bind horcuxes to each other?"

"Henry, the horcruxes will make me immortal; within a few years, I'll stop aging entirely, because my soul will bind me to earth. You have no such protection from time. And it only makes sense; that way, we can both stabilize each other. More than that, we can never betray the other, because our souls will be at risk."

Henry considered it. It was shocking that Tom would propose such an idea, but then, if it was a choice between certain insanity and unlikely betrayal there was really only one choice. It was quite like Tom to suggest, too, that he make his own horcrux. Aside from the fact that Henry too would gain immortality, it would ensure that Henry would not betray Tom's souls, because Tom could then do the same to Henry. If he killed all of Tom's horcruxes and then Tom, he himself would go mad. Likewise, Henry creating a horcrux would make it hard for anyone else to kill Henry, which would mean that Tom's soul pieces would be unanchored. It was the only sensible solution, and in any case Henry didn't see any point in _not _making a Horcrux…

"Alright. How do you make one?"

* * *

**Please review!**

**Also - yes, I know, the bonding thing might seem unnecessary, but Voldemort's ideals are different in the books, as are his rather foolish attempts to gain followers. Insanity seems to help that. Don't stop reading - saner or not, I promise the future Voldemort will still be evil. He'll just be cleverer going about it.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I'm REALLY sorry, I haven't updated for a loooong time, I know. And this still isn't a real update, just a very small chapter, but it's been sitting on the computer for months so I thought I might as well give you something while I'm stuck for ideas. Hopefully I'll update sometime in the near future; I am NOT giving up on this story, I promise!**

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**13**

* * *

"Call the aur-!"

"_Avadra Kedavra!"_

The frantic men fell to the ground, terrified eyes now glassy and dull. The fleeing magic users trampled his corpse as they ran from the small army of inferi and werewolves.

Tom and Henry led this dark procession. Some of the town's folk tried to take a stand against them. A few had the wits about them to cast a few fire charms at the inferi. Henry, in pegasus form, carelessly drew water from the air to quench the fires before they could hit their targets. Tom quickly killed those who knew enough about inferi to be a threat.

"Wolves, herd them into the center of the town!" Tom shouted. Henry broke into a swift gallop, pressing himself, and bowled through a good amount of terrified citizens.

They were only attacking another small town, as was normal in raids, but this time they weren't just trying to cause chaos. They wanted hostages.

Henry brought water onto the ground behind him as he ran and was rewarded with cries and yells as the foolish people slipped in their haste, adding to the confusion.

When he reached the edge of the town Henry let out a terrifying scream, whirling around. Most were attempting to hide or even fight, but the sight of the giant horse stopped those attempting to run this way.. Werewolves had broken off from Tom's group and were sprinting to various positions outside the city. Screams were heard by those foolish enough to run, followed by laughter from the werewolves. If Henry had been able to he would have smiled.

There was increasing panic as the wizarding village realized they could not escape. More attempted to fight back now, but their spells were wildly flung and useless. No one seemed to know how to kill inferi, the werewolves were to quick too be stopped, Tom was a masterful dueler, and… actually, Henry wasn't really being shot at, though now he went forward and began herding the people toward the centerof this pitiful city, which only really consisted of three or four shops and which was surrounded by most of the houses here.

A few broke past Henry - he was only a single pegasus, after all – but he quickly would use his new elemental abilities to make them slip. In one case a man broke through who was too surefooted to slip. Remembering a technique mentioned in one of Grindelwald's books, he pulled the water in the man – it remained in the skin, but all his blood moving like that was a major shock to the system. With a few more 'tugs' on the blood the man fell to the ground, dead.

As he herded the wizards and witches toward the center of the town – like sheep, Henry thought wryly – he heard Tom's voice, magically amplified.

"SURRENDER!"

Heny switched back to human form at this, amplifying his own voice. "WOLVES, CLOSE IN!"

Henry looked around and saw that most seemed to be running toward the center of the small town. He allowed himself to be distracted for a small moment by an icy chill on his finger. His eyes widened.

Henry quickly spun around and, casting a few hasty spells, had the man he had killed walking as an inferi. He ordered it to let no one out of the city and to stay in this area. He cast another charm for good measure, this one lowering the ground behind the inferi into a trench.

Really, why hadn't they done that all around the city? This was not the time to think about such things though. Henry turned into his pegasus form again, flying hard toward Tom. It was not a very long fly, and a few moments later he was on the ground again, human, by a very confused Voldemort.

He ducked his head near Tom's, eyes darting around. "The Order is coming."

For a moment Tom stared at him, surprised, than shook his head quickly, "Well, we need to hurry then, in that case."

And hurry they did. Soon the magic folk of this miniscule town – a pitiful two hundred hundred or so – were grouped in the center, surrounded by inferi, werewolves, and two very intimidating and very young dark lords. Henry moved through the group, finding the Order member by the ring on his finger that only other Order members could see.

A few minutes later the first Order members began to arrive. Floating in the air were two signs, never seen before that raid. One was a ghostly green skull, a snake coming from its mouth. Next to it was the form of a great black pegasus, which was trampling a corpse that had been spelled to float up in the air. When they finally got the body down they discovered the fate of one of their youngest Order members.

* * *

"_Animionecto!"_

Tom's eyes rolled back in his head, eyelids fluttering, but he kept his wand focused on the tiny baby snake. Henry watched raptly as the tiny snake writhed briefly, an angry, garbled hiss coming out, and then settled. Tom shuddered and stumbled a little, regaining his footing, but he looked pleased.

"Are you sure a snake is a wise choice for your horcrux?" Henry asked doubtfully.

"No, but a basilisk – or almost basilisk, anyway – is certainly an exception. Immortal, practically indestructible, completely lethal…"

"Though still a living creature..." Henry frowned, than chose to drop the subject. Too late now, in any case…

"Well, now that you've seen one made." Tom paused, still breathing heavily from exertion. It seemed the spell took a lot out of one. "Do you have any idea what to use for yours?"

"Yes, though, I was thinking – do you think me being in a different time than I should be in will affect the spell in any way?"

Tom frowned. "I hadn't thought of that. I don't see why it would..."

"I'm not aging at all, I think, being in the past – it's like my bodies just frozen in time…"

"And you think this might affect your soul?" Tom guessed. "Unlikely. Body and soul are two completely different things, Henry."

"Well, can't hurt to try, I suppose," Henry agreed. He focused on a certain cloak. "_Accio cloak!"_

"What?!" Tom stared. "You can't expect to use a _cloak_ as-"

Tom was abruptly cut off as Henry's invisibility cloak flew in.

"…you have an invisibility cloak… and you didn't think it was important enough to mention?"

"Nope!" Henry said cheerfully.

"Oh, you're hopeless." Tom sighed. "Anyway, you should really use something else. Invisibility cloaks don't work after five years or so, anyway, so it would be a pretty useless horcrux at that point – the point is to make a horcrux something no one would want to destroy for no reason, hence why we don't just stick our soul in a tissue."

"Soul? In a tissue? Yuck. And where did you here that about the cloaks? I've had this for about five years – longer, actually, unless my cloak in frozen in time as well – and it was my father's, and his father's before him. It's a family heirloom."

"That doesn't make any sense." Tom frowned. "Well, alright then, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Henry grinned and pointed his wand at the cloak, focusing on a mental image of the last person he had killed, a necessary part of the spell. "_Animionecto!"_


	14. Followers

_**A/N: I've been considering speeding through the last part of Henry's visit to the past to get on with the more interesting present-day part. Any objections?**_

* * *

Followers

* * *

Grindelwald nodded slowly, processing the information his great-great-grandson had given him concerning the last raid. "So, there was an order member at the last attack site, was there? If you and Tom are leading the raids, then this will be useful; however, both of you are away at school for a majority of the year. We need a way for you to signal myself or whichever of my followers leads a raid if you feel your ring go cold."

Grindelwald, Tom, and Henry were situated in Grindelwald's 'office' of sorts, containing various maps and texts to use in planning Grindelwald's attacks and strategies. Henry and Tom has just finished reporting on the last raid.

"Something similar to the rings?" Tom asked, raising an eyebrow. "We cannot risk giving them out to all our followers, Grindelwald. We may very well have a traitor of our own; in fact, I'd be more surprised if there wasn't a turncoat or two in the ranks."

"Not quite like the Order's rings,' Henry interjected. "Something a little more permanent, perhaps? So that no one else may steal what we use…" What could they prevent from being lost? The rings, for example, could easily be removed and stolen; Henry has only refrained from stealing the killed man's ring on the last raid because the Order would realize that the enemy had it and would likely change their method of warning. A thought occurred, then, to Henry.

"In my time," he began, "you marked all of your followers, Tom, with a tattoo in the form of a skull with a snake coming out of it's mouth, like the sign in the sky after the last raid. On the arm, if I recall correctly."

"Morbid. I was fine with putting it on the air, but on the body…"

Henry shrugged. "To be honest, it seemed a little silly to me at the time; your followers were rather easy to find once you pushed up their sleeves. Now, though, I see a little wisdom in it. They could never change their minds at the last moment; the mark was permanent, and if they managed to leave the ranks a word in the ear of an auror could have them arrested easily; all the proof was right on them."

Tom looked a little bemused. "I marked all of my followers, and yet no one thought to – I don't know – make it mandatory to check a person's arms when entering a building, for example?"

Henry shrugged. "Seems strange, doesn't it? Though, of course, I did hear rumors that you had a few men working among the ministry workers; influential workers, ones who might be able to stop such a law from being passed."

Grindelwald nodded. "Yes, I like the idea. A mark on the body, unable to be removed; one would have to be quite sure of their loyalty to take it."

"I believe the mark burned when Tom wanted to recall his death-eaters," Henry added.

"Yes, that will work. Although, perhaps we will have it in a place a little more difficult to see than the arm; the back, perhaps? Tom will, for whatever reason, eventually change this, but for now it seems the best idea we have."

"Agreed." Henry nodded seriously, but a faint smile hovered on his lips. "So… the design?"

A short while later Henry and Tom left the office, each bearing a new and different mark on their backs; Henry, a small, rearing black pegasus. Tom bore a coiled snake, mouth gaping and fangs bared, ready to strike. Grindelwald had his own symbol, the circle with a triangle in the center, a line slicing down this. They had only to touch their wands to the mark between their shoulder blades and it would trigger all marks; A signal form Henry an odd sensation, like the skin was writhing; a burn if Tom signaled; and an icy feeling from Grindelwald. If Tom or Henry's marks were found they could be explained away as simple tattoos from teenage rebellion, for they would be different then the marks given to their followers. That would be Grindelwald's symbol, a black pegasus on the right of the circle and a coiled snake on the left, with four words underneath.

_For the Greater Good._

* * *

Henry and Tom returned to school, and began gathering followers in the earnest. A Ravenclaw here or there, drawn into an intellectual debate on blood, or perhaps ambitious Gryffindors, drawn to the powerful duo, with Hufflepuffs, irritated with being thought of as second-rate and glad someone thought them of some worth, joined in droves. They had given none the mark yet; that would only be given to Hogwarts graduates.

It was apparent, as well. Within little over two months at least twenty-six students besides the original eleven were surely loyal, and perhaps more, though Henry and Tom were not so certain of others. It was apparent in the atmosphere of the school that something was changing.

Therefore, Henry was comepletely unsurprised at the subject of the next Order meeting.

There had been several since the last raid, but Dumbledore had insisted he did not attend these, and Henry suspected he knew why. His suspicions proved correct.

"Mr. Grendel." The first usual greetings between the members had been stilted and awkward; all seemed to be avoiding Henry's eyes. Dumbledore alone looked at him, face serious. "We _must _know; is Mr. Riddle..."

"Yes." Henry took a deep breath. "I didn't want to believe it, but I can't ignore it anymore. He's gathering followers. And they _know _that they are followers; I've heard him called Lord Voldemort twice."

There were a few sharp intakes. Despite the insistence of Dumbledore, some had not wished to believe that a mere child could do such things as Voldemort had.

"As I feared. How have you reacted?"

"I... well, I try not to act too different, but I think he suspects that I know something."

Dumbledore nodded, slowly. "I recommend that we turn this to our advantage."

"Sir?" A few members leaned forward, raptly, waiting for Henry's reaction.

"Henry, I understand that this is not something I can expect you to be obligated to do; but I must ask it of you anyway. We need to learn as much as we can of this Lord Voldemort and his actions, and I think you will be able to gain his confidence. If you inform him of your suspicions, and tell him that you agree with what he does-"

He trailed off. Henry was nodding, slowly, lips pursed and looking pained. "I'll do it, sir." He whispered.

* * *

That night, Henry closed the dorm doors behind him, saw only Tom, and burst into laughter.

"Henry?" Tom raised an eyebrow.

Henry attempted to compose himself. He failed. "I'm spying on you as of know."

Tom blinked, then a feral grin split his face. "They finally asked you?"

Henry laughed again. "We've as good as won this war, Tom."

* * *

"Mr. Grendel?"

Henry stood, biting his lip worriedly, glancing around at the expectant faces of the Order members.

"Have you managed to infiltrate Mr. Riddle's group."

"Yes, Sir." He paused a moment, as though gathering himself. "Tom is definitely Lord Voldemort, Sir, and heir to Slytherin." A few worried murmers swept through the room. "And high in the ranks, too; the only person above him is Grindelwald himself."

A grim silence fell on the room. Dumbledore looked at him kindly. "I understand that this is difficult for you," He said, sympathetically. "I am sorry. Has Mr. Riddle mentioned anything of the other one, Poseidon?"

"Just once or twice, Sir. He doesn't speak about him much, I don't think he trusts anyone with that information. But he did mention that Poseidon would be working on out-of-country recruitments for the cause. I think he's somewhere in Spain."

"Spain?" Dumbledore looked surprised, but thoughtful. "Yes, we haven't had any attacks by him either recently. And Tom as well, of course, with him being in school."

"A child and a dark lord," One person said, disbelieving. "Is there any way to prove that he is, though, and get him arrested?"

"I fear it would be of little use to do so. Even if we could present irrefutable evidence, I have no doubt he would simply run, and continue working for Grindelwald. This way, at the least, he is powerless during the school year, and we have at least a limited idea of his actions."

* * *

Henry had, obviously, been lying about being in Spain. However, the thought did give him an idea. He discussed it with Tom and Alexander Malfoy a few nights later in the dorm.

"_Would _those from other countries be interested, do you think? Aside from here and Germany."

"Certainly," said Tom. "Especially werewolves and vampires and the like. In many countries they're treated even worse than here, they'd jump at the chance." His next comment told Henry why he had insisted Alexander take place in this discussion. "You have a vampire or two in your family, correct, Alexander?"

Well, that was news to Henry. "Yes, one here, one in France. They're already part of Grindelwald's forces, I believe."

"And they're clans?"

"Them as well."

"Attempt to contact them. They may be useful in recruiting." Alexander nodded.

* * *

It was very lucky, Henry decided, that he had a Pegasus as his form. He doubted this meeting would go very well, still, but it should help.

He picked his way through the forest, keeping his ears pricked and alert, listening for danger. His wings were kept furled tightly against his body, which was not the most comfortable of feelings.

Henry smelt the centaur herd before he saw them. He followed the scent, and soon peered through foliage to see some fifty centaurs, sprinkled through a field. Some were sitting on the ground in sleep, other moving about, staring at the sky in fascination. A few were eating fruit in another corner. Some, he noticed, were glancing in his direction, as though they had heard his movements, but he highly doubted they could see his pitch-black body through the trees and brush at night. In any case it didn't matter.

He walked into the clearing slowly, but almost casually, being as non-threatening as possible. Heads spun to look at him, sharp gasps heralding his entrance. A huge centaur began walking toward him even as others stepped back.

"A pegasus? And a black one?" He glanced back at the centaurs who had been staring dreamily at the sky.

One spoke to him. "The stars tell of great changes begun this night, Yare. The planets align in positions of power an strength."

The apparent leader - Yare - turned back to Henry, who took that as his cue.

He slowly morphed back to human shape, letting his upper body start first. Yare's face did not change even as others shifted excitedly. For a brief moment, Henry looked similiar a centaur with wings, then continued the transformation back to human. Once finished, he bowed to the leader.

"Greetings, Leader Yare. I am he who is called Lord Poseidon among the wizarding world, and I have a proposal to offer you on behalf of my grandfather, Lord Grindelwald..."

* * *

"I don't much like this idea," Henry muttered, staring at the calm surface of the lake distrustfully. He shivered a little. It was at least one a.m., and in March, too. "Merpeople seem more like the 'shoot first' type to me. What help can they be in the war, anyway? They have to stay in the water, if you weren't aware."

"Not exclusively, and they have a type of magic of their own. They have some methods of contacting other, Merlin knows what they are, so they're support might mean that of other colonies as well. They could be useful at some point. Might as well have all bases covered."

Sighing, Henry reluctantly conceded to this logic, and they performed the bubble-head charms. Charms to keep themselves warm in the water quickly followed suit.

About an hour later, they scrambled back onto land. Henry cradled his arm, covered in blood with a long, jagged slash running down it from a merperson's spear, groaning as the bruises on his back protested the movement. Tom swore creatively, tearing the spike-ended wood out of his own leg.

"You know, I don't think we really need their help," Henry gasped weakly.

* * *

**_Please Review! And tell me what you think about speeding up this part of the story more._**


	15. Descent into Madness

**A/N: Speeding up now, but we're getting back to the future, and that's where the story gets exciting. :)**

* * *

G15

* * *

The last of the school year went by quickly. Ties with the student followers were strengthened, especially with the graduating seventh years, who would be working directly for them as Death Eaters. Their marks were given on the last day of the school year. They bit their lips as the marks were given, repressing cries of pain, but their eyes sparkled as the spell was completed.

Henry also worked more on his dueling, and not just with Dumbledore. Tom had a head start on him, with how Henry had been wasting his first four years in the wizarding world, but at last Henry was catching up. He found himself defeating Tom in duels more than before, and more often then not their fights ended in a draw, with both agreeing to end when it seemed no winner would be decided soon enough for their liking. Tom seemed both pleased and disgruntled by this development, though he consoled himself some by pointing out that he, after all, had been teaching Henry much about dueling. Henry just rolled his eyes at this.

They both returned to Nurmengard for the summer. The small basilisks were seen to, and raids organized now with help from the four death eaters who had been given their marks. Inferi and Grindelwald's troops still made up the bulk of the raiding party, but Tom and Henry were confident that this would change.

Their fame grew, and when they could the two would slip away, to such places as Knockturn Alley, where hags and banshees and vampires might be found, along with 'dark' wizards and witches, recruiting others with visions of a world free of muggles, where all magical beings could live free and equal, away from their corruptive influence and free to act as they would.

As summer passed, Henry became increasingly uneasy, however. The time was coming closer and closer to the year 1945 - and Henry had payed attention enough in _History of Magic _to know what had happened - what _would _happen. Finally, unable to bear it, he asked Grindelwald to speak with him alone.

He took a deep breathe, making to speak, but was stalled as his grandfather raised a hand.

"Already I know what you will say; you are worried of my inevitable defeat."

"How-?"

"You said that Tom was a dark lord, and I _had _been one. And from your anxious behavior the past few days, I would say my time is now numbered. How long?"

"1945, that's all I remember. Dumbledore will defeat you and lock you away in Nurmengard. Tom will disappear for a time, I think, before reappearing fully as Lord Voldemort, and - well, actually I have never heard of a 'Lord Poseidon'."

"If you were only present for a few years, I doubt you would have been much noticed, in comparison to Tom and I. Very well. We will speak with the goblins. On the day of my defeat, you will return to the future."

Later, Henry shared this information with Tom, who accepted it grimly. Henry also decided that, even with the time they had left, he needed to prepare for his eventual return to his time.

"I will need a way to find you, preferably quickly; most do not even accept that you live at the current time, and I imagine a dark lord in hiding will not be easily found."

"Agreed. A meeting place, perhaps?"

"Yes, that would do. You will have to be there every year, however; I'm afraid that telling you when I will return will likely have you realizing who I am, which will almost surely change the timeline."

"Alright; you will have to pick the area. It can not just be some random field; any area I might suggest could easily have a building on it in your time."

"True. Alright..." He considered for a moment, and then it came to him. "A graveyard."

"What?"

"The graveyard where your father, Tom Riddle Sr., was buried. It will still be there."

"Have _you _been there?" Tom was a little bewildered. "Why?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Henry grinned, the memory of the graveyard no longer troubling him. "Every year, on July 10th, go there at night. It will be a _long _time before I'll meet you there, but - "

"Can't change the timeline, I know."

"Sorry. Anyway, we don't have to worry about that for a while, at least..."

Henry also made his second and third horcruxes within the year; for the first of these two he decided finally on using a Grindelwald family heirloom, a small dagger, spelled indestructible with spells long forgotten. He had been given permission to bring it to the future with him. The other was something which Tom found much amusement in; Henry had gone to a wizard museum, found a great and ancient seeing-stone of Egypt which would grant the Sight temporarily to the user, priceless, and which was covered in layers of wards and spell to keep it safe - even if all the rest of the museum and everything miles around were burnt or crushed. It was ingenious and ironic; others would be protecting Henry's soul for him.

The next year passed. Henry, now legally able to do magic outside of Hogwarts, was now permitted by Dumbledore to help the Order on preventing raids. The Order became emboldened by their apparent 'success' on those few raids and attacks which they attended, not knowing that Henry would signal with his mark to Grindelwald to have the party leave, and were convinced that the forces of Grindelwald, Henry, and Tom were cowards. Being underestimated, Grindelwald pointed out, could only work in their advantage.

The school year ended with dozens of the school being swayed to their side. The seventh years in Henry and Tom's 'inner circle' were marked, as well as the others, who would serve by recruiting others at Hogwarts. They were ordered to pick a younger student, a third year perhaps, to appoint as their next recruiter for when the inner circle had graduated.

Henry and Tom, released from school, were now able to work exclusively on the war. Or Tom was, in any case. Henry was still spying on the Order, though this was increasingly frustrating work; little the Order did would be helpful to know. Still, the Order did have some Ministry officials, so Henry learned some of their doings to report, at the least.

One day one of the Order members was, too Henry's shock, recruited. When he saw Henry, his eyes lit up. He insisted on speaking to Tom privately. Tom allowed it, and so the Order member - Paul, Henry thought - was a few days later telling Tom that Henry was spying on the Death Eaters.

Tom returned to Henry with an eager Paul by his side, obviously hoping to be elevated quickly in rank. Tom raised his wand.

If Tom did not kill Henry - which he wouldn't, obviously - Paul would know that Henry was not, in fact, spying on the Death Eaters. And they could not give him that knowledge.

Henry stopped Tom.

"May I?"

Tom lowered his wand, gesturing to Paul politely, and the man's look faded rapidly from eager anticipation to outright terror.

"_Avadra Kedavra!_"

* * *

And, finally, the day came. Grindelwald was defeated.

Henry knew even before the news reached him. How, he didn't know; perhaps his subconscious remembered the day from his textbooks. Perhaps it was intuition. In any case, he greeted the news, given to him by one of Grindelwald's frantic lieutenants as he entered Nurmengard, without the slightest surprise.

Everything had already been prepared for this. Everything in Nurmengard of importance had been moved to the vaults. He gathered up the few frantic followers who had swarmed Nurmengard in wake of Grindelwald's defeat and took them out, knowing soon that Grindelwald would be escorted here to be locked away for decades.

He went to Gringotts.

* * *

Tom knew, when he spotted a newspaper triumphantly telling of Grindelwald's defeat, that Henry would not be bidding him farewell; it would be a long while, perhaps ten or twenty years or even more, before he again saw Henry.

He did not expect to know the exacts moment when Henry left, but he did.

He had been walking through Knockturn Alley, searching for likely people to recruit, when a terrible, indescribable pain gripped his chest, his limbs, every millimeter of skin to him and more, somehow, the pain echoing through his mind, in such a terrible way that he realized, even as the pain faded to a manageable throb and he sat up from his new position on the ground, ignored by those walking by, what had happened.

Henry had left - and now only one horcrux containing a soul-piece remained in this time, a tenuous connection at best to the anchor of his own horcruxes - and he dreaded to think what the repercussions of this unlooked-for complication might be.

Madness began to take him. After Grindelwald's defeat many of the followers had fled, and now Lord Poseidon had disappeared as well. Now Voldemort became increasingly cruel, and began acting irrationally. His followers split away, and he could no longer be called a dark lord by any means of imagination.

His thoughts became centered on himself, his continuation. Without followers, he searched for worthy pieces to make his horcruxes from, adding to his collection, in insane hope that it might stabilize him; it only increased his madness. Nonetheless, he continued, determined to make seven worthy horcruxes.

He became also set upon regaining his followers. Few of the old and many new rallied to his cause, now warped and twisted from visions of a perfect, all-magic society to one of purebloods only, and no one else. Or so they said, in any case; really it was just pure slaughter for the sake of slaughter.

Every year, however, on July 10th, he returned to the graveyard.

He diminished in power, sanity, followers, and yet still he was a force to be reckoned with.

On October 1981, he entered the home of Lily and James Potter, convinced that the 'prophecy' of a foolish poser telling of a threat to him could here be stopped, convinced that none could kill him after this child - and the Longbottom one, after, for good measure - was killed.

He failed. The killing curse rebounded, and a new horcrux unintentionally made, adding to his madness. But he 'lived' still, if it could be called such, or in any case he continued. In vain he tried in increasingly desperate attempts to regain his body, but failed, until thirteen years later a ritual was performed with the help of Wormtail and an unwilling Harry Potter. The bone of his father could have been moved, and the ritual done in another area, but Tom thought it... fitting... to have it in this graveyard.

His body was regained. Potter escaped, but he was a child. He could be taken care of another time, perhaps after he determined just how the boy kept living.

July 10th, he called a Death Eater meeting, but unable to do otherwise, called his scant followers to him in the graveyard.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy gave an imperceptible shudder as he took his place in the circle of death eaters, cramped into an ancient tomb lighted with torches bearing green flame. Voldemort, his hideous leader, stood in the entrance way, madness lighting his blood-red eyes.

It hadn't always been like this.

He hadn't been alive in the height of the dark lord's power, when he was sane; but his father, Alexander, had. He had told stories to his son, stories whispered in the night, with silencing spells all about - _the walls have ears, _Alexander would tell the child, and later he knew that if Voldemort heard anyone saying he was less than a sane genius they would be slaughtered.

Alexander, though, had risked it. He had told Lucius of a time when Voldemort, then Tom, and Poseidon, then Henry, whom Lucius had otherwise never heard of, and lastly Grindelwald, had thousands backing them, fighting not for the death of all muggles and all with muggle blood and, just because they were in a bad mood, anyone else too, but for _all _magical beings. When Voldemort had been sane and genius and so wise and even _more _powerful - and wasn't _that _a terrifying thought? - and he, Alexander, had been one of the inner circle.

And then it had all fallen apart. Grindelwald had been defeated and captured, and Poseidon disappeared. No one knew the details, but Voldemort had gathered his eleven inner circle Death Eaters and warned them of his growing madness, though the cause was not given. And so they had to either flee for their lives or serve under a madman once his sanity fled; Alexander chose the later. Voldemort had said he would be insane, but he had _also _said that, one day, his sanity would come back, and he would be victorious.

Alexander was dead, and Lucius was still waiting.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, about the horcruxes; Henry-Harry as a child before he went into the past would not anchor Voldemort's soul because that Harry had not yet gone through the anchoring spell thing, but the horcrux Henry left behind still anchored Harry to the world, hence his strange luck, and for the diary we'll say that the soul in the diary wasn't destroyed but went to add itself to another horcrux, since the horcruxes still had that weak anchor to the third horcrux of Henry, which is also why Voldemort still is intelligent enough to do things like terrorize the wizarding world and isn't completely disabled by his insanity, though he's still completely given up his original pursuits. I'm eager to get started on this part, so hopefully I'll update soon, but I've just spent 29 minutes getting this thing loaded on my idiotic labtop which keeps freezing, so I'm probably going to wait to start it, or else I'll end up throwing it against a wall. Reviews?**


	16. They're Back!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter universe, any of the characters, items, ideas, etc etc.**

* * *

**They're Back!**

* * *

Tom would later be unable to remember quite what he was saying when it happened - something, he thought with no small despair, about ridding the world of muggleborn filth, or something of the like. All he knew was that one moment he was speaking, and the next he had collapsed on the ground.

He did not hear the alarm this caused. He was deaf, and his body brilliantly pained, torn and sewn together, it felt. There was no description for this; he was whole again, his soul firmly connected to him, and his mind and powers and all that had risen him to the position at the beginning was regained. His skin was burning, melting away and writhing to the young self his immortality should have kept him like.

Hands grasped at him, groping with desperation. He moved, and they fell away. Slowly he stood, leaning against a wall, and he threw back and laughed insanely, as though in contradiction to his new found mentality, hysterical in the wake of his new perception and realization that he had destroyed all that they had worked for.

Henry had returned.

* * *

Henry - Harry, now, he realized - scribbled down his signature, accepting the Grindelwald vaults as his own. He had returned some hours after he had left, about ten p.m., and the goblins had been beginning to worry that they had started a war by killing the Boy-Who-Lived by accident.

He left as soon as he was finished. He still had his things with him, his wand and cloak and the dagger and even a trunk of books and the like, all of which he had carried with him as of January 1st, 1945, shrunk. It was late, but he had business to do.

Still under the guise of Henry Grindelwald he stepped out of Gringotts, blond hair, blue eyes and all. He thought of Tom, Tom who he had seen yesterday and who had not seen him in decades. And he thought of what they could do, now, their power together, and he could not stop the mad laughter that came from him. Those few about stopped to stare, wide-eyes, and he apparated.

It was raining lightly when he arrived; fitting, he thought. He looked around; immediately his eyes fell on the flickering green light framing an open entrance to an ancient tomb-structure. He heard nothing, but saw silhouetted against the entrance a tall form, robed in black. He could not see anyone else, but he knew somehow that there were Death-Eaters in the room. Tom had so little faith in his coming that he had decided to have a meeting here while he kept his word and waited.

Would Tom recognize him after so long? Unable to stop the smile on his face, he transformed.

Firm hooves pushed against soft ground. His wings were kept tucked against the body, and as he came to the tomb Henry threw back his head and shrieked.

Yes, he had adopted Tom's flair for the dramatic.

* * *

Sixteen of the nineteen Death Eaters raised their wands. Three, however, did not. Rosier and Nott stilled, and a glimmer of hope long-dead rose in them, and one Lucius Malfoy followed suit, heart pounding. Was this what his father had foretold?

Antonin Dolohov, the only other of Tom's original 'inner circle' remaining, however, had a much different reaction. His face twisting, he whipped out his wand, daring to aim it just over his lord's shoulder.

_"Avadra-"_

"_Avadra Kedavra!"_

Dolohov slumped against the ground, and the Death Eaters froze. Voldemort pocketed the wand.

"You only _just _got rid of him? How did that one _live _this long?"

The strange, ghostly horse running toward them was gone. Now a boy, just a teenager, stood behind their lord, wet, and cold in more than body as he watched the body dispassionately.

"Henry."

Rosier and Nott fell to their knees and bowed. Lucius followed suit.

Voldemort grasped the shoulder of the only one he named friend, something strange glittering in his scarlet eyes. Uncertain, the Death Eaters stepped away.

Henry smiled. "_Now _I can tell you."

* * *

Henry stared thoughtfully around at the graveyard, the uneasy Death Eaters waiting inside. He was sure Tom would have no qualms accepting this, but now there was so much planning to be done...

"I don't think you can be too surprised by this." He looked up now, finally, at the impatient Tom. He never had much patience. Amused, he took off his disguise, and Voldemort found himself staring at Harry Potter.

"_You!" _

Henry rolled to the side to dodge a spell he didn't recognize, throwing up a shield behind him. He spun, wand up, poised to attack, but held himself back, tensed.

The man in front of him clenched his jaw, staring at the boy intensely, brown eyes unreadable and dark, then ever so slowly lowered his wand.

There was a long pause. Finally it was broken by Tom's low chuckling.

"Well, at the least I can stop trying to kill you." Tom continued: "And it explains how I failed..."

Henry snorted. "If saying so helps you feel better."

Tom stiffened a little, now unused to Henry's playful jabs, then relaxed again. "You have not changed at all."

"In my perspective, it has been but a day since we last met. Mentally, I am still the nineteen-year-old Henry Grindelwald you knew, even if physically I am, unfortunately, now fifteen-year-old Harry Potter." He sighed. "I wonder if I can permanently change my appearance...?"

"I forget how very _vain _teenagers are." Henry glared.

"And, the subject of the past..." Tom looked at him seriously. "Using you as an anchor was _not _so very wise a decision as we thought."

Somehow, he was unsurprised how blaise Tom was over finding out his greatest enemy was his greatest ally. "Oh?" He asked.

"You _were_ absent for a few decades, you know."

Henry froze.

How had he not thought of that?

"...Ah."

"Eloquent as ever, Henry. I knew when you returned, for in that instance so did my sanity; for the first time since 1945 my thoughts have been perfectly clear.

"But I _did _leave a horcrux behind, and then when I was born..."

"The horcrux was not enough, evidently, and the spell was not cast upon you until you went to the past, so still I had no anchor." He smiled bitterly. "All we have worked for has been lost. Our ideals and goals were blurred and turned instead to petty violence and blood-lust. Now only the insane and depraved follow me."

"...No. It is not too late."

"After all of this-"

"Your followers who will not convert to the original purpose will leave or be eliminated. The true purpose will be spread. People will rally to the new cause, just as before."

"I am well known, as you have said before... Such a reputation can not be changed so simply."

"I am not so known; but there will be those who remember the days of Grindelwald, where Voldemort and Poseidon fought for all magical beings." Tom looked thoughtful, his eyes speculative. "They will remember. Call back your followers; we will begin our work immediately."

* * *

**DAILY PROPHET**

At the _Daily Prophet _headqaurters a frantic, young new reported practically bolted inside, gasping for breath, late in the night. Some still there stopped to stare in surprise as he brandished photos frantically.

_"Voldemort attacked!"_

What? The reporter was swarmed by disbelieving people snatching up his photos in dismay. The dark mark was clearly shown, as was another, lesser-known mark that was puzzled over by all but one.

"_Voldemort? _Hogwash, that's just rumor-"

"By _Dumbledore, _never known him to lie, maybe there _is _some truth to it..."

"Where did that happen?"

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Did you see any Death Eaters?"

"What's that other mark?" A voice interrupted.

"Yeah, that horse, with the - _Merlin!"_

"Is... is that a _person _the horse is trampling in the air?"

"An _actual _person?"

"Is he _dead?!"_

One pale, aging reporter finally managed a loud, strangled sound, grasping his heart, and the others stepped back in surprise.

_"Poseidon!"_

* * *

The Order members streamed into the room. It was seven forty-two, a.m., and everyone had been up late searching for one Harry Potter; some had not slept at all. Not a single person, however, came in anything but alert; for another urgent meeting to be called, just after the last - well, it didn't bode well.

Molly Weasley spoke before Dumbledore could say a word. "Is it about Harry?" She asked urgently.

"No, though I wish dearly that it was." His sober gaze weighed them all, lingering on the few veterans of this group who might recall this threat, and understand what it meant. He withdrew the edition of the _Prophet._ "Voldemort is no longer alone; the sign of Lord Poseidon has been seen."

Dedalus Dingle and Alastor Moody reacted, the first falling off his chair and the latter swearing viciously. Shacklebolt, who had enough seniority as an auror to have read a file or two on Voldemort's early years, drew in a sharp breath, and Minerva clasped her hand over her mouth.

Everyone else stared at him blankly.

"...Who?" Sirius finally asked, blinking.

"I thought You-Know-Who killed him," Shacklebolt finally managed to sputter. Moody darkly muttered something about conspiracies, viligilence, and _how _could he have been so _idiotic _to assume him dead just because he had disappeared for some fifty years?

"It appears not." Dumbledore levelled his gaze on Sirius and the others. "In the wars with Grindelwald, some three or so years before his defeat, two young dark lords arose under him; one was Lord Voldemort" a few flinched. "and the other was known as Lord Poseidon, for his animagus form, that of a distinct black pegasus. They directed many of the attacks, and gained reputations of their own. Lord Poseidon vanished abruptly with Grindelwald's defeat. There are several theories as to this. Some believed that he _was _Grindelwald, who had disguised himself as another subordinate dark lord to gain less attention on those attacks Poseidon led. Others believed that he had simply grown afraid and left. A rumor which I suspected to be accurate was that he was a heir to Grindelwald, and perhaps had fled to preserve the Blood, or some such thing. Generally, however, it was accepted by all that Voldemort, in his greed and quest for power, had killed him. After Grindelwald and Poseidon left, Voldemort began to follow his own desires. Most of the forces of the three dark lords disbanded, leaving Voldemort a small group only to satisfy his whims." He looked solemnly at the silent assembly. "Lord Poseidon was just as strong magically as Lord Voldemort; and that means more than you know, for Lord Voldemort's power seems to have diminished greatly since the defeat of Grindelwald. We now have more dark lords to compete with - and if this is any indication at all, Lords Poseidon and Voldemort are once again united and working together."

"We have _two _of them to deal with now?" Bill Weasley asked, pale.

"Three. The aurors guarding Nurmengard have gone missing, and it seems the place itself has disappeared despite its many wards. I believe they have made use of the Fidelius charm as well; and this means that Grindelwald is once again free."

Chaos.

* * *

"That went well," Henry said cheerily, vanishing the corpse on the floor. "Only one person disagreed with the new ideas."

They had decided to free Grindelwald before telling the Death-Eaters of their new plans, so they would have more assistance in freeing him. The ancient dark lord had remained at Nurmengard. He was weak, being cage so long, but Henry knew he was not broken. It would not take long for him to recover.

"The rest were too terrified of me to agree."

"Details."

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "Well. In any case, we have few followers in this time. We need to get into contact with those of the old group who are left, for a start. The werewolves and vampires might prove difficulty. My only contact with the werewolves is Greyback's pack - you remember Greyback, yes?"

Henry grimaced.

"Exactly. The vampires will be even more difficult. They hold grudges forever. However, there will also be plenty who remember the war, those who might sympathise again... I'll have to think on that..."

"What of the basilisks?"

Tom frowned, puzzled as he tried to think of what Henry meant, then grinned.

* * *

"Well, that's... interesting."

The basilisks had been moved in 1945 to an unplottable stretch of land, large in preperation of their growth, with house-elves tending to them. A house-elf had, in fact, been the secret keeper - they could live a long time.

They did not, however, find fifty large baslisks.

"I thought they had to come from chicken eggs...?"

"Well, I suppose they can breed, too."

There were over a thousand basilisks at least, of all varying sizes. They had been nearly attack by a few dozen as they stepped on the grounds, basilisks who seemed to remember the speakers of long ago. The basilisks all were careful with their gazes, and due to the spells put on them on eggs could look at people without killing them, if they so chose. Apparently this also became _hereditary, _which was interesting...

"Master Henry, Master Tom!"

A dozen house-elves popped into appearance, gathering around the two excitedly. After calming them down, Henry asked him how many basilisks there were. He was informed that there were precisely 1,495 basilisks currently.

There were basilisks from thirty feet long to just half a foot. Catching sight of something, Tom grabbed Henry and dragged him away from the elves to a nest watched over by a fourteen-foot basilisk, at least two feet around. The female flicked out her tongue lazily, unconcerned, as their peered at her nest. In it lay nine large eggs.

Henry grinned.

* * *

**Please Review!**


	17. To Grimmauld Place

**A/N: Thanks to all reviewers! I think this chapter is a little more Kreacher-centered than I meant him to be, but... *shrugs*.**

**Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter, characters, places, ideas, terms, etc. etc. etc.**

* * *

Grimmauld Place

* * *

Henry - _Harry, _he reminded himself, Harry Potter - crept into his room as quietly as he could. The snoring of the Dursleys could be heard even in here, and he grimaced at the thought.

Privet Drive! It had been four years, yet the thought of this place still filled him with disgust.

After assessing the basilisks (of which there were now 1,519) he had been forced to leave Tom, who would go about the business of recruiting. The death-eaters would spread the word of the new purpose. Voldemort would be meeting with the vampires, werewolves, and giants as soon as possible, and with hope Hen- _Harry _could join him, but more likely than not he would need to stay here. Before he left Tom, he had activated his old mark; anyone who still bore it would feel the writhing pegasus on their mark, and know that Lords Voldemort and Poseidon were back again.

* * *

The next night he left the house for a walk. The Dursleys were quite frustrating, and not being able to do anything about his situation even more so. He could not help but notice his cousin and Dudley's friends as he approached the park, but immediately his mind dimissed them as a threat, sure that Dudley would not dare do anything. He underestimated the stupidity of his cousin.

"Hey, Big D! It's your cousin!"

Harry was amused when his cousin paled, but nonetheless his cousin tried to act brave. "What are you doing here, freak?"

Harry just snorted and kept walking.

"Hey!" Dudley gathered his courage. "I'm talking to you!"

Harry just laughed.

Red-faced, Dudley approached him with his gang close behind, but before Henry could even consider attacking a strange chill came through the air. His occlumency barriers slammed down, mostly deadening the feeling, but the others were not so lucky.

Dudley yelled, as did the other, some falling and scrabbling at the ground. One collapsed, out cold.

Harry did not want to use magic. It would not register with the ministry, due to spells on his wand exempting him from the age limit, but who knew what wards Dumbledore had set up? Instead, he transformed, stepping back and lowering onto his knees between bushes, camoflauged by the night. He doubted wards would pick up that magic, and now the dementors were content to ignore him.

It was dark and difficult to see with the artificial dementor-darkness adding to the night, but he could make out the wraiths floating to his cousin and his gang, serene and easy. Almost lovingly, the largest bent down to pick up his cousin.

Well, the wizards could hardly blame him for this, could they?

A few moments later, the last dementor dropped his victim. Pier Polkiss - or what had once been him - fell to the ground limply, and the dementors moved off.

The night was silent. Harry stood up on sore horse legs, stretched a moment, then transformed back and walked back home, now humming cheerfully.

* * *

_Seven a.m. July 12_

Alicia hummed along with the song from her iPod as she jogged, though it was interrupted when she stumbled. She didn't fall, though, and resumed running, wishing she had remembered her glasses. Her pace slowed a little as she spotted a few dark blurs on the ground in her path.

_What's that? _She approached. Her eyesight was rather terrible. Once about thirty feet away, she realized what it was, but disbelieving and suddenly numb she continued until she stood right over the fallen teenagers, all with eyes wide open and breathing shallowly, white and pale.

She fumbled for her cell phone.

"I need an ambulance!"

* * *

This time it was the scheduled Order meeting that brought news.

"Arabella Figg," Dumbledore informed the group as they sat, "has informed me that she has seen Harry walking through Little Whinging."

Exclamations of delight, and also irritation that they had been worked up over nothing. "However!" He raised his voice, and they silenced. "His cousin was found yesterday - kissed by a dementor, along with several friends."

The room went deathly quiet. "Dementors? Among muggles?"

"Yes. We do not yet know what this means - it may be that Voldemort knows of Harry's whereabouts, most likely; in any case it is highly doubtful that it is a coincidence. In light of this, I believe it would be best to move him here."

Sirius grinned, though everyone else seemed more troubled.

His smile faltered at Dumbledore's next words.

"And this, of course, means that Voldemort has recruited the dementors."

* * *

Following this several members of the Order lured out the Dursleys and flew with Harry to Grimmauld place. Harry was not quite sure why they didn't apparate - even if they didn't know Harry could apparate, there was side-along - and the whole experience was rather unpleasant.

Even more unpleasant was the greeting he received.

"Harry!"

Immediately upon entering the room Remus had pointed to he was assaulted by a black-brown blur, and jumped aside hastily. The blur stumbled and hit the closed door as he withdrew his wand.

Whoops.

There was some shocked laughter, and he looked up to see Ron. He looked strange to Harry - it had, after all, been four years since their last meeting.

"...Nice to see you?" Ron said, like a question, glancing at the red-faced Hermione with snort.

Hermione regained her balance, beaming nonetheless, looking so cheerful and chirpy it disgusted him. "Harry! You must be furious, after this summer, we're _so _sorry, but Dumbledore forbid us from owling..."

"Yeah, that's great." He interrupted. "What is this place?"

"Oh! Well, this is the Order of the Phoenix - " No... it was too good... was this like the Order of the Griffin? "they work against Voldemort and are led by Dumbledore, it's really amazing - oh! And this is Sirius's old house, too, he's hiding here, so you'll see him all the time." _Tom will die when he hears this..._

He searched for a response he would have used. "Cool?"

They didn't seem suspicious, even if using the word 'cool' made him feel like an idiot. Suddenly there were two pops, a crash, and some swearing for Ron as he was on the floor under one of his brothers.

"Sorry there!"

"Hey Harry - "

"Great to see you again - "

"We became worried - "

"When you didn't - "

"Demand to see your favorite people immediately -"

"No! He's forgotten us!"

"It can't be so!"

"Hi," said Harry wryly. They beamed.

He noticed they were holding something. "What's that?"

"This, Harry, is out latest invention."

"Extendable Ears."

"Slip them under a door and they'll creep forward on their own - "

"And attach this end to your ear, like so - "

"And you can eavesdrop!"

"...Interesting." Inventions? He wondered how much potential these two had - but then, they were Weasleys; it was unlikely they would be interested in the cause, if Ron was anything to go by... Well, perhaps he would try his hand at recruitment later.

* * *

"Harry!"

This time he didn't flinch as someone, now his godfather, engulfed him in a hug on sight, and even forced himself to reciprocate slightly. Why were all these people so touchy? For four years the only person he had called friend was Tom. Tom, shocker, was not exactly the touchy type. This was rather awkward.

"Sirius." He thought he did an admirable job of not sounding disgusted. He wasn't so much disgusted with the person - Sirius was, after all, a Black, and his godfather, and _that _could prove useful - but the situation. And, seriously, he'd seen this guy, what, three times or something? And that four years ago, even if to Sirius it was more recently.

Sirius released him, grinning. He was quite similar in looks to the Blacks among Harry's followers (all that inbreeding, likely) but that grin belonged on no Black's face. It was... unnerving.

* * *

That night Sirius argued with Mrs. Weasley on Harry being in the Order. Sirius lost. Harry thought he should have been able to join, but didn't mind, because a thought occurred to him then that would likely be a much easier way of getting information.

First, though, he would need to find a way to get past Moody's eye.

Hadn't Orion mentioned a Black Family Library in their home? Although the thought of _this _being the home of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black was rather strange. Nonetheless he decided to look.

After trying several room in the dirtier parts of the house (and accidentally finding two pixies, a boggart, and some weird little shiny floating creatures making humming noises) he finally came upon a dusty library. The air filled with dust each step.

He recalled something that Sirius has mentioned last night.

"Kreacher!"

No response. Well, Sirius had mentioned that the house-elf didn't like him. Which was strange - the Black's had agreed strongly with Tom and Harry's opinions on all magical creatures, and always gave house-elves the respect any sentient creatures of magic deserved.

"Kreacher, as godson to the Head of the House of Black, and thus heir to the House of Black, I order you to come here."

A pause.

CRACK.

An emaciated house-elf in a dirty cloth stood before him, old and bowed, muttering. "Nasty mudblood filth saying he is Black, the mistress would be - "

"I assure you," Harry said coldly, "Walburga would be ashamed that you are speaking as such to Lord Poseidon. Watch your tongue."

Kreacher's head jerked up, and as long as he dared, Harry switched to his pegasus form. Kreacher's eyes widened, and he threw himself before Harry, apologizing profusely.

"Get up." Kreacher did so as once. "You can not be blamed, I suppose, for you did not know; and certainly you have reason to hold no love for the rest in this house. Kreacher, you are ordered to tell no one of my identiy, animagus form, or any of my doings unless I personally order otherwise, is that clear?"

"Yes, Master." He looked fanatically adoring. Another reason house elves were great allies, they were loyal to a fault.

"Thank you, Kreacher." Kreacher looked ready to burst with pleasure. "Now, I'm afraid that I have no way of finding the necessary books in here... Could you assist me in finding some books concerning illusion spells - specifically, ones that would get past Moody's magical eye?"

"Kreacher would be honored, Master." The house elf agreed happily. He disappeared, and Harry heard several pops throughout the huge room as he moved about, then returned with four books.

"These should have all the information you need, Sir, though there are more and Kreacher can find them if this is not enough, Masters."

"I will call you if anything else is needed. Thank you, Kreacher." Kreacher hesitated. "...Is there something you want to tell me, Kreacher?"

Kreacher shuffled. "Master, Master Regulus told me to destroy an object before he died, but Kreacher - Kreacher could not do it. Would powerful Master please help Kreacher?" His eyes shone with hope.

Why not? "Retrieve the item, then."

Beaming, Kreacher disappeared.

He returned a moment later, and Harry stared.

It was a locket, with a large S, and it stirred Harry's memory. This was the last Horcrux Tom had made before Harry had left to the future.

How the _hell _did Regulus get this?

"Kreacher, do you know what this is?"

"Kreacher does not, Sir."

"This, Kreacher, is something very important to the dark lord Voldemort, and he would be very upset to have it destroyed." Kreacher's eyes widened slightly. "Now, why would Master Regulus want this destroyed?"

Kreacher's eyes darted around. His voice was a whisper. "My Mistress and Master Black said that the dark lord has different ideals, once, yes they did, but not now, no, now he is twisted and nasty and cruel, and Master Regulus didn't believe Mistress and Master, no, so he said to Kreacher, 'destroy this,' and then he died."

"Kreacher. You recall that I worked with Voldemort for our ideals?" Kreacher began to tremble. Patiently; "No, I am not mad, for Voldemort _was _insane, but your Master and Mistress were right. Voldemort is sane again, and now the old ideals are back, and Regulus believed_ those,_ didn't he? So, he might have wanted it destroyed _then, _and for good reason, but _now_ he wouldn't, so would you mind terribly if I took this and gave it to the dark lord when I might?"

Kreacher hesitated.

"Kreacher, trust me, I am not lying to you. Regulus would be completely behind Voldemort with our ideals back. As heir to the House of Black, I swear that my word now is truth."

Kreacher wavered, then handed it over, eyes shining. "Master Regulus would not be upset?"

"He would be very pleased, Kreacher, and you have done well, telling me this, he would be very pleased."

Kreacher leapt forward to hug his ankles, sobbing. "Thank yous, Master!"

Harry allowed him to do so, but his eyes were on the slytherin locket.

_Tom, what would you do without me?_

* * *

"Harry," Hermione's words were hesitant enough that Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George looked up from what they were doing. "I just realized - we never asked - about your cousin..."

They fell silent.

"He was kissed," Harry said, allowing a very small amount of fake regret into his tone. "And his friends."

Her hand flew over her mouth - could she be more dramatic? - and Ron and Ginny looked horrified as well. Fred and George looked a little sickened at the thought of the kiss... But he had a feeling there was no _concern _for Dudley there...

"Better him than you, at least," said Fred, thinking of his meeting with Dudley.

"George!" Hermione scolded. "That's terrible!"

He opened his mouth as though to correct her, than thought better of it. Behind her back Harry met Fred's eyes and nodded in agreement.

George grinned a little.

* * *

Harry snorted a little to himself as he saw Fred stuffing a knocked-out Doxy into his pocket.

"Experiments," George whispered to him as he walked by, grinning. He flashed him back a smile, truly amused for once is this blasted place, then picked up a spray can.

Why were they cleaning, anyway? He wondered. It was his fourth day at Grimmauld Place - he would have to find a way to sneak off soon and meet Tom - and they were cleaning one of the spare rooms. Really, though, wasn't Kreacher supposed to be doing this?

Mrs. Weasley, when asked this, answered with a sigh. "We tried to get him to clean, but he won't even listen to Sirius, and he's really let the place go."

Harry frowned as he saw Fred yelp as a Doxy, spray the doxy in the face, then quickly snatch up the anti-venom. "This is ridiculous. These could be rid of in an instant with magic."

"Yes, dear, but with so many dark-magic items here, magic against the house seems to work... strangely."

He considered for a moment if he should keep Kreacher as a secret, but he imagined it wouldn't stay so for long, and then people would only be suspicious. "Kreacher!"

CRACK.

"Master called?"

Everyone stopped what they were doing. Mrs. Weasley gaped at the house-elf.

"Kreacher, would you please get rid of those Doxies? We can't use magic in this room, so it's rather difficult."

"Of course, Master!" He snapped his fingers, suddenly the bucket of doxies was full. "Anything else, Master?"

"That is all, thank you Kreacher."

Kreacher bowed, then disappeared.

Mrs. Weasley stared at the spot he had been in with astonishment. "That thing listens to you?"

"Of course. I am Sirius's only heir, you know, which means I could be Head of the House of Black one day."

"But he doesn't even listen to Sirius!"

"Of course not. Sirius hates him. House-elves, treated with respect and cordiality, will happily listen, but they're not going to stand for that treatment." He glanced at the bucket. "How about some lunch?"

An hour later;

"Kreacher?"

Kreacher popped into the empty room.

"Kreacher, are there any Doxy eggs in those nests...?"

"Yes, Master."

"Could you bring them here?"

He disappeared, then reappeared with a crack, handing Harry a small bucket.

"Thank you, Kreacher."

* * *

Fred and George popped into their room, the latter almost stumbling over a bucket.

"What the-"

"Are those eggs?"

They peered into the bucket, then exchanged grins.

"Sweet!"

* * *

**Not much happening here, more an introduction for the action later There will be more on the Order- people later, and the reason for the illusions. Anyway, to alleviate any concerns, I will NOT be rewriting the books with a few little differences, as some do, which is always enough to put me off a story. Besides, I'd be too lazy to copy so closely. Also, point out if I make any mistakes? There will be plenty of things I'll just skip over, but I haven't read the books in like two years, so I might be forgetting a few things. Thanks, and please Review!**


	18. Apparation

**A/N: Thanks to all reviewers! Summer is coming up, so hopefully I'll be writing more, because frankly I never do anything in Summer.**

**Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter, characters, places, etc.**

* * *

**Apparation**

* * *

Sneaking out was not so difficult as he had feared. In fact, it was almost stupidly simple. He checked for wards. None. He apparated... and that was it.

Really?

He apparated to Tom, using the Mark as a reference-point. He was studying a map in a small room of the newly reclaimed Nurmengard and looked up at Harry's arrival.

"Hey, Tom." Harry said easily.

The maps _swooshed _to the floor as Tom leapt up, whipping out his wand to aim it at Harry. The younger man tensed, but otherwise did not react, watching Tom speculatively. After a brief pause Tom abruptly pocketed his wand, sitting down.

"Henry."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I have not, recently, allowed any to call me by that name," Tom said by way of explanation. Harry knew better than to expect an apology, and indeed couldn't care one way or another, so he just nodded and sat.

"So?" Tom prompted.

"First of all - Are the dementors on your side?"

"Dementors? No. Why? You have always shown a certain reluctance to recuit them in the past."

"Several attacked me wandering the streets by my relatives."

"Indeed? You did not attract attention?"

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," Harry said blandly. "I transformed and they ignored me, but my dimwitted cousin and his gang were there as well, and not so lucky. It was quite satisfying."

Tom smiled wryly. "I assume, then, that you are not worried for your remaining relatives in this war?"

"They can just barely be called relatives, and I can say honestly I don't care what happens to them."

"That simplifies things, then. Have you just been with them?"

"No. Several members of an 'Order of the Phoenix' working against you picked me up and took me to their headquarters, led by Dumbledore, just like before. It's unplottable though, so I can't say where."

"They took you to their headquarters?" Tom snorted softly. "Not very bright, are they? Poseidon spying on them a second time."

"Unfortunately, I do not think they will be telling me anything worth note. They haven't even told me of Poseidon or Grindelwald - how is he, by the way?"

"Old," said Tom, grimacing. "Sleeping. We will have no triumvirate, I'm afraid. He never made any horcruxes, you know."

"Yes." Harry sighed. "Too bad... I'll have to see him, sometime, if he recognizes me anymore."

"Doubtful. Aside from old age, he's also been not so well treated, which hasn't helped. Had no idea who I was."

Harry clenched his jaw, but just nodded. Then, remembering; "Ah, yes. Spying. I have an idea... They let Henry Grendel into their confidence once before, you know."

"...That they did. What are you thinking?"

"Why not go back as Henry Grendel?"

Tom's eyebrows nearly reached his hair. "After just disappearing like you did?"

"Why not? What reason did I have to stay? I was supposedly some refuge running from Grindelwald. He was defeated, Poseidon disappeared, and you went quiet for a few years. It might have been strange, just cutting all contacts, but I'm sure I can explain it. Dumbledore is disgustingly oblivious to things like this. And with the Order so small, he can hardly afford to turn away members!"

"Who all is in the Order?"

"Few. Sirius Black - yes, they realized he was innocent - Remus Lupin, one of Sirius's cousins - something-Tonks, I think..."

"Sirius? On a first name basis, I see?"

"As if I have a choice - he's my godfather, you know." Harry grimaced. "Unpleasant, but he might be useful. He's a little unhinged and fiercely loyal to me, it seems."

"Is he? Go on."

"There's Dumbledore, of course, some bum named Mundungus Fletcher, Snape - " He paused, but Tom looked unsurprised. Harry had seen not seen Snape at the Death-Eater meeting and was curious just where he stood. "Alastor Moody, the Weasleys, that friend of Dumbledore's... What was his name? Didalus, Dedalus? Something Dingle. McGonagall, Flitwick, a 'Sturgis Podmore', some auror called Kingsley Shacklebolt... I think that's it, or all I know of, in any case."

"Pitiful," Tom commented.

"Yes - and even more pitiful because I think some of them could potentially be turned."

He'd caught Tom's interest. The Death-Eater numbers weren't exactly intimidating, either. "Oh?"

"The Weasley twins, at least, show some ability and seem little less 'holier-than-thou' than the rest, so I'll have to question them, figure out their ideals. Lupin is a werewolf, of course, which says nothing about his ideals precisely, but they usually have a good pack mentality. He's a lone wolf, I think - except for Sirius. He considers Sirius pack, and from Lupin's attitude would probably see him as alpha there - if Sirius can be swayed and Lupin convinced we're not the devil reincarnated, he'll join."

"And the rest?"

"I don't know. Haven't spent enough time with them."

Tom accepted that. "Infiltrating as Poseidon... Dumbledore's just foolish enough to make that work... but - "

"Age, I know."

"You would be what, sixty, seventy even now? You could go as a descendant, I suppose..."

"That would not get so much trust. I was thinking more telling him of the immortality thing."

"...Because light people just make horcruxes _all the time..."_

"Not with horcruxes. I found a spell in the Black library - I'll say I was bitten by a vampire."

Tom raised his eyebrows, but now looked speculative. "Vampire... But if Alastor Moody is there, and the pulse - "

"_Black Library, _Tom. There's a spell to mask the pulse, and others to trick even Moody's eye, with some difficult spells. Even covers the scent, so Lupin won't suspect."

Tom folded his arms, maps abandoned. "You truly believe this will work?"

Harry took out a small ring he had imbued with the spells - and a notice-me-not - then using a sticking charm out it on his index finger. It activated with three taps of his wand. His features shifted slightly, becoming sharper, his skin pale, his eyes a dark amber. His nails grew slightly, sharp like claws, and his teeth became pointed.

Tom stood, moving over to check his wrist; no pulse. He cast several spells over Harry, but found no signs of illusion.

Tom eyed him a moment, then gave a small smirk. "When are you sending him a letter?"

* * *

The next Order Meeting began with Dumbledore striding in, a gleam in his eyes. The members were surprised; usually Dumbledore did not often manage all the meetings.

He stood at the head of the table, smiling, and waited for them to settle. "We will be welcoming a new member today," he declared.

The members straightened, looking at him with interest, and one with scepticism. "Who?" asked Moody, always suspicious.

"An old friend of mine, who I had assumed was dead - and, in a way, I was right." He chuckled, though they were confused. "He was an old student of mine. I questioned him, of course, but he is the same Henry Grendel I knew, aside from one small difference." He raised his voice. "Henry?"

The entrance to the meeting-room opened, and there were sharp gasps. Remus Lupin growled slightly at the sharp smell, now knowing what that strange wisp of a scent was.

'Henry' thought that he probably didn't look very threatening anyway, considering the whole tall-as-as-a-firstie thing. The smug Tom was six feet. It was very hard being an intimidating dark lord when you were short.

"Henry Grendel left after the Grindelwald wars, so he has told me, after being bitten," Dumbledore said happily, ignoring most of their reactions. Flippantly; "Remus, you can not kill him."

Remus made an irritated sound, but sat back in his chair, glaring a little at the vampire, who only nodded to him cordially.

"Grendel was one of my spies, you see," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "A close friend of Voldemort."

Now _that _got a reaction.

"Friend?" Sirius sputtered.

"_Friend. _Voldemort's only, in fact. Henry decided when Poseidon's mark was seen to seek me out, see if there was anything he could do, now that he is more in control of his blood-lust and able to help again."

"About spying, Albus...?" Henry trailed off.

Dumbledore looked slightly surprised. "Spying again? If you do not think he will be too suspicious..."

"Tom knew about my being bitten, and why I left, at least, and that I would be leaving Britain. I think he will be pleased to have me back - or so I can hope."

"And if he isn't?"

"Run like hell," he said wryly, gaining a few laughs. Some were confused.

"Tom?"

"Voldemort... though I don't recommend any of you calling him Tom to his face. Crucioed anyone else who tried."

Moody eyed him. "Except you?" It wasn't really a question, but he answered;

"Except me."

"Well, another spy would certainly be welcome," Dumbledore said, cheerfully. "If you can convince him, that is."

"Another?" 'Henry' feigned surprise.

"Severus," and he nodded to Snape, "Is our spy."

"Truly? I commend your bravery, then. And your wits, as well, fooling Tom."

Snape inclined his head coolly.

"Tom," Sirius said, suspiciously. "He thinks of you as a friend - do you think of him as one?"

"Even if I had before, he killed my parents; what do you think?"

That quieted them, and Dumbledore, surprised, said "I am sorry for your loss." Hesitation; "Did he..."

"He did not know of our relation, but that means nothing."

Dumbledore inclined his head. Remus gave a short growl, then subsided, seeming to struggle with himself. Tonks shot him a _what-the-hell? _look.

"Well," he said, "Now that that is out of the way - welcome to the Order, Henry."

* * *

When the meeting ended, Harry was still pleased with the Orders uselessness, but also now thoughtful.

Prophecy?

He left and apparated outside Grimmauld Place like the others, turned back to Harry Potter, and apparated back into the Black Library.

* * *

He needed to talk to Tom about that...

As it was, it was a good thing that he had stayed in Grimmauld Place instead of going to Tom immediately. A few minutes after the meeting's end when Harry had gone into the family room where Ron and Ginny were playing chess the headmaster appeared, asking to speak with him. Harry agreed coldly, settling for a glare. He had considered reasons a teen might be resentful of Dumbledore, and frankly this was easier than protending to like the fool. Dumbledore, at least, looked not at all surprised by the icy reception. He also seemed undeterred by it.

"Harry," he said seriously, "I have been informed that you have yet to talk of your cousin's deaths."

Oh, god, did he have to act sad?

No - he had never liked them much, as he had told Tom, and Dumbledore knew it. Keep with the anger.

"And just how would _you _know that, Sir?" he asked spitefully.

Dumbledore would not be moved. "Your friends have approached me with their concerns."

"Names."

"Now, do not be upset with..."

"Names."

Dumbledore considered him quietly for a moment, then; "Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, of course."

"I _do _talk to more than two people, you know."

"So you _have _spoken about them?"

"_How _is this your business?"

"I am merely concerned, dear child."

Harry decided that the spasming in his eye was not normal, but not terribly surprising. "I talked to the twins."

"...The Weasley twins?" Finally he looked faintly surprised.

_No, my two imaginary friends, _Harry snarked in his head. He only nodded tersely.

"I see. Well, I am sorry to bother you, then. I merely wanted to be sure that you were not supressing your feelings." Actually, he was. It was very difficult not to give one of his perfected evil cackles whenever the Dursleys were mentioned, but thought it better to not mention that. "...Was there anything you wanted to talk to me about, Harry?"

"No," he said curtly.

Dumbledore only nodded, patting his shoulder (cue eye twitch) and then left. Harry waited a few beats as the door close and the headmaster's footsteps faded away, the hastily apparated.

* * *

Dumbledore paused as a faint CRACK came from behind him, then dismissed it as trivial and continued.

* * *

"Do you think if we added a pair of lacewings - "

"Of course not, that would reverse the effects of the - "

"Right, right, what about decreasing the doxy eggs for the - "

CRACK.

The twins leapt back from their cauldron with curses as a small figure popped into existence, but Harry spoke quickly, forestalling their words.

"Dumbledore is coming up. As far as he is concerned, I have given you several tearful stories about the Dursleys, and very much regret their deaths. But act a little defensive, like you don't like giving away my secrets, so he won't pry too much."

They stared at him blankly.

"...Did you just apparate?"

"_Dumbledore. Tearful stories. _Did you hear me? I'm very distraught about their deaths and have told you everything because I'm being pressured too much by Ron and Hermione, or something. Wing it. And put that cauldron away, too, I doubt he would approve."

Finally that seemed to penetrate, and Fred hastily stowed the cauldron under his bed as George stuffed the ingredients in various niches. They both quickened as footsteps were heard, and Harry jumped up onto the top bunk, huddling into the corner and throwing the covers about himself.

The door opened.

"Professor?" Fred asked, sounding baffled. Harry's first thought was that Fred was a good actor. His second was that Fred probably _was _rather baffled.

"Was there something you wanted?" George asked, equally bemused.

"Yes, I was just speaking with young Harry. I'm a little concerned about his reaction to the Dudley's death. Has he spoken to either of you, by any chance?"

There was barely a pause.

"Well, yeah," said George cautiously. "With respect, Sir..."

"We really shouldn't say."

"Of course, of course, but he _has _been telling you, then, of how he feels?"

"Well, he's upset, of course," Fred said.

"What are you trying to say?" Fred asked, gasping dramatically.

"I think he's calling us tactless!"

"The cruelty!"

A faint chuckle. "Well, thank you for speaking with me, boys."

"Any"

"Time."

Harry waited until Dumbledore's footsteps faded away again, then threw off the cover. He peered over the bed, where Fred and George, standing identically, were looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"What was that about?" George demanded.

"I need him to think I was upset," Harry said truthfully. He couldn't have Dumbledore thinking him dark this early on.

"Then why did you go to us instead of Ron and Hermione?"

"They'd never agree like you. And they're the ones who told him, anyway, that I wasn't talking of the Dursleys. Too nosy."

"Why did you need him to think you were upset?"

Harry shuddered dramatically. "Are you kidding? He'd probably force a therapist on me, or something. No thanks!"

They seemed to accept that much. "Alright... How'd you apparate?"

"_You're _nosy, too." Harry grumbled.

George tapped his foot pointedly.

"A friend taught me," he said.

"Can't the Ministry - "

"Nope. Wouldn't be able to in an Unplottable house, anyway, but there are spells on me."

He considered the twins. It was earlier than he had planned, but it seemed a good a time as any...

"...in fact, would you like to meet him?"

They looked puzzled. "Who?"

"My friend, who taught me to apparate... I have more than a few explanations for you, I think."

The twins exchanged glances, then shrugged. "Sure," they said as one. A feral smile coming over his face, Harry grabbed their arms and apparated.

* * *

**I know, that was a little cruel. :)**

**Reviews?**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: First, thanks to all reviewers! And sorry for the wait, as always. It being summer, hopefully I'll be updating more often.**

**Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter universe, characters, places, items, ideas, etc. etc. etc...**

* * *

Chapter 20

* * *

Rosier stopped and stared as he saw a boy, just a teen, apparate into the halls of Nurmengard - a teen with black hair and a thin red scar across his forehead. He whipped out his wand from his robes.

"Lower your wand."

Rosier froze, staring at the child. The voice was a little different, but just the way he spoke... and he _did _look a lot like...

"My apologies," Rosier murmered, hastily sketching a bow. He was a little numb with shock.

"I shall explain later," the child dismissed. As an after thought; 'And to the other, as well." Nott deserved to know his identity, being faithful for so long. "Why are you here?"

"T - " Rosier paused. Obviously Henry (Harry?) did not want the two red-heads with him - great Merlin, were those _Weasleys? - _to know what was going on. "He told myself and... the other of this place, no one else so far."

"I see."

The child waited pointedly. Rosier left.

* * *

Fred and George watched the exchange of Harry and the black-hooded man with confusion. After something the two did not really understand, the man left in a swirl of dark robes, and the two exchanged glances, frowning in thought. Before they could so much as voice a question, Harry was walking the opposite way.

"Wait here a moment."

They stopped following him, and he paused outside a door. A black door, as was just about everything else here.

"Cheery place," George muttered.

Cracking the door open, Harry stuck his head in the room, making Tom glance up curiously.

"Call me Harry," he instructed, making Tom raise his eyebrows. "We'll introduce you after they're happily converted, got it? Just introduce the ideals until then. And, by the way, they're going to be calling you Tom."

Tom, thankfully, was a little quicker on the uptake then the twins had been. "All right," he agreed. "But who...?"

"Okay, come in!" Harry called behind him cheerily, stepping in. Tom decided that he should challenge his friend to a friendly duel sometime. He _did _have an additional fifty years of experience... Oh, yes, that would be fun. He nodded to himself firmly as two puzzled Weasleys walked into the room.

A very _long _duel.

* * *

The twins stepped into a spacious (black colored) room. Behind a desk, covered with maps, charts, and scrolls, sat handsome youth of twenty or less, eyeing them with a strange look in his brown eyes. He considered them a moment, then raised an eyebrow to Harry, folding his arms and leaning back.

"I thought they would be useful!" Harry said, defensively. "And they're not idiots like some of their family, they'll listen to what we have to say!"

"Should we be offended for out idiotic family?" George asked his brother in a stage whisper.

"Oh, please, can you really say otherwise?" Harry asked. Bemused, Fred looked at him with surprise. The man behind the desk stood.

"I presume you are curious as to why Harry had brought you here?" He asked smoothly.

"Rather."

"He just told us..."

"That you taught him..."

"To apparate when we asked..."

"How he knew how."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Good Merlin, you're right, that _is _annoying." The twins looked offended. "Well, yes, I taught him to apparate. But that's not why you're here. _You _are here because Harry thought you might be a little more... Openminded than the rest of your family."

"Oh?"

"How so?"

"Because you," Harry interjected, "Will not, I hope, scream 'Harry's gone dark!' when I tell you that we want to get rid of the muggles."

Dead silence.

"What?" Fred breathed.

"Not like Voldemort," Harry said, making Tom's lips twitch. "Not pure-blood mania. Halfbloods, magical creatures, muggleborns and even squibs, those are all fine. They're magical - yes, even squibs, to a low extent. We're not blood maniacs, we just... Want to keep magic in the world."

"Muggles kill the world." Tom murmured. "With all their new 'technology' and '_improvements', _as though they are doing everyone a _favor. _And their technology is growing, has already grown too much. Did you know they could destroy the world? I don't just mean kill the people, though that would happen as well, but they have weapons that would allow them to destroy whole nations in an instant if they chose to, and make the land itself uninhabitable for centuries. Soon enough they'll be unstoppable even with magic."

"And there's too many muggles, and too many of those corrupt. There are limits to magic. Magic, in a way, is safe. Muggles are not. They ruin the world for everyone... And if they find out about magic-users? Find out about werewolves, centaurs, vampires and banshees... or what of faeries and unicorns and all those other 'light' creatures families like yours hold so dear? They'll kill them all, find ways to hunt down everything magic and crush it. This, gentleman, is called a preemptive strike."

"But not completely. The past has shown us dangers of muggles - I'm referring to the witch-trials, you know - and the danger to the world alone... Magic is connected to the earth, it has been theorized. That, we believe, is why magic has gone so much weaker - why 'great' wizards such as Merlin and the Founders and countless others lived _before _all this technology popped up."

"Magic is, in the view of muggles, something stagnant, unchanging... But that only means, truly, that it is immortal, able to survive indefinitely and prosper... Without outside interference, that is."

"Interference like the muggles."

"Preemptive strike."

"Preemptive strike," Tom agreed. "Oh, they'll learn about us eventually, too. Wizards are so often careless. And _that _is when the war will start, and we will lose."

"Unless we hit them first."

Stunned silence.

"You want to... get rid of the muggles? _All _off the muggles?"

"Maybe a few for the vampires," Harry considered. "We're not yet sure of that. Maybe stick a few populations on some islands, so vampires can feed."

"Of course, wizards can give blood easily enough, it doesn't really hurt their victim."

"We've actually considered just making all the muggles vampires."

Tom nodded. "Messy, though. And then there wouldn't be enough blood. Maybe werewolves, but that could be complicated, too..."

"Maybe they and the wolves can change a few families of the muggleborns."

"And that will help get muggleborns to join easier," Tom considered slowly, the thought occurring to him.

"And it will be just _courteous, _stop plotting a second, Tom."

"Hmmph."

George made a sound that seemed a little like a whimper.

"Our first target is either Britain or Australia," Harry added. "Not sure which yet. Both are large islands, you see, so if people from other nations try to interfere they'll find it more difficult. Could start with small islands, but this will attract more attention, let people know we're serious. Britain's would be smaller and easier to manage, in a way, but closer to other countries that a takeover might piss off, but Australia's not exactly home court, and larger, of course... We're still weighing the pros and cons. Russia is going last, though, we've decided that much, all the past wars show that going for Russia... _not _a good idea."

"Yes, Harry, let's tell them the whole plan before they decide, shall we?" Tom snapped.

"What? People like information. Good marketing technique."

Tom decided that this was really not worth a rebuttal, instead watching Fred and George, who were both rather pale.

"Well. You have heard our proposal." Tom said, gravely. "While I mean no offence, I am sure you will understand if I cast a spell on you, so that you can not speak of this?" Fred and George didn't react at all. "Very good." He cast the spell. "We'll give you a few days to think on the matter... Harry, could you try to get back here sometime within a day or so? You recall that I placed an agent in Australia?" That would be Nott. "I think Australia might be a good starting place after all."

"Oh?"

"Seems they have a large population of faeries, centaurs, and merfolk, a sympathetic population, and a magical government no one is quite so fond of."

"Interesting... Well, I must take my leave."

He took the two twins by their arms and apparated right back into their rooms, allowing them to sit slowly on their bunks. "Don't be surprised if you suddenly can't speak, that means someone can hear you talking when you inevitably discuss our proposal. Good night, and thanks for the help with Dumbledore!" Flashing them a smile, he apparated to his favorite haunt, the Black Library.

Fred gave a strangled sound and slowly sat on the bed.

George summed it up nicely. "Holy _shit."_

* * *

_Two days later_

"Back in time, my lord?" Asked Rosier, a little disbelieving. Nott could only stare.

"Yes. I am still all that you knew before; I am a descendant of Grindelwald, and the ideals I gave were those I hold." He shrugged. "All rather ironic, really, but on the bright side no one will suspect Harry Potter of being Lord Poseidon from fifty years earlier, now will they?"

* * *

"So, Australia..." Harry tapped his chin. "Interesting... Will Nott be returning there?"

"Yes. He's already gained a few tenuous allies. I think it would be best if one of us went to Australia personally to speak with those such as the centaur-leaders and such."

"By us, I'm assuming you mean me."

"Well, I have to control the Death Eaters, now don't I? I'll deal with the merfolk, giants, banshees, and such... They never seem very fond of you. You can deal with the werewolves, vampires, and fae, I assume?"

"Are you insulting me?" Harry demanded.

Tom smirked. "Speaking of recruiting, have the twins responded yet?" Tom asked.

"Not yet. They looked rather terrified the rest of the day they were informed, but now they just refuse to leave their rooms. I'll talk to them in three or four days if they don't say anything, but hopefully they're giving it some thought."

"Have there been any more meetings?"

"Not yet, next is in two days." A thought occurred to them. "I've been wondering, I did not see Severus Snape in the last Death Eater meeting..."

"He misses them often enough, for 'spying' on the Order, and such."

"So has he heard of changes?"

"Not yet."

"Lets try and keep it that way, hmm? I'm assuming you know he's a spy?"

"Obviously. But he supplies potions and never really learns anything important, so..."

"I see." He looked at the maps ever-present on Tom's desk. "Planning?"

"I think we're due for another raid." Tom flashed him a smile. "There's a little village here, do you see? Right next to that river? I've checked all the families, light, every one of them. Small though, even for a wizarding village, not even a hundred and fifty people."

"That seems a little _too _easy."

A shrug. "It will do to weaken the light's morale while we search out sites that won't hurt any potential followers."

"Speaking of _potential _followers..."

"Yes, I realize some of the light families could join, which is why we're offering everyone in the village to join."

"Offering something at wand-point is usually _not _the best of recruiting techniques."

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

And he was.

Of course, as Harry would later point out, they were mainly just getting the cowards of the village on the side - not much help at all. Twenty-one of the village joined them, seven of them just teens. Despite their previous threats, however, they simply destroyed the village and allowed the people to live. Aside from the casualties sustained in the actual attack, anyway. The new outlaws would be taking up residence in an unplottable area used for the same purpose in the last war until a suitable cover-story could be made allowing them to integrate into society, allowing them to gather information and recruit others.

* * *

"How many were killed?" Mrs. Weasley asked, worried as Dumbledore told them of the attack.

"Surprisingly, only eleven. Lords Voldemort and Poseidon released the rest - those who refused to join them, in any case."

"That's not like him at all," Moody muttered.

"No aurors were informed?" Kingsley asked.

"Not until long after the attack had finished."

"Poseidon is into trying to look kind and merciful," Henry Grendel spoke up. "Thinks it will be a good recruiting technique. And strokes his ego, I would think. A regular Caesar, likes to think it puts him above others." He shook his head.

Dumbledore nodded. "He is a great influence on Voldemort, then?"

"Oh, yes, or at least he was in the last war. I'll have to watch to see if it's the same here, but it would seem so."

"And Voldemort has accepted you back so easily?" Moody asked, suspicious.

"Yes... Strange for his character, I know, but I don't think it even occurred to him to doubt me, after a long interrogation to confirm my identity. Poseidon seems ready to keep me at arms length, though."

"Have you learned anything of their plans?" Dumbledore interrupted.

"Well, in the beginning they might not be launching the main assault in Britain. What they're doing now - that's nothing. So far, talk is leaning toward conquering Spain and Portugal," Henry lied. "That area would be mostly surrounded by sea, so it's a good place, strategically, and Spain won't be prepared for attacks by them as Britain would be. A little bit of blitzkrieg tactics - " He flicked his fingers, "And they're down before they know what's happening."

Mrs. Weasley looked horrified. "Oh dear!"

"Only after they recruit more," Henry assured her. "They couldn't do anything with so few, and I doubt they'll get enough followers to ever try that. In the meantime, however, they'll continue little attacks on Britain - _that's _what we need to worry about now."

"Agreed," Dumbledore said. "Remus, have you learned anything regarding the status of the werewolves?"

"So far no one seems interested in joining them," Remus said. "The werewolves were even more unpopular after the Grindelwald Wars, and made the same mistake with Voldemort in the First War. They're not eager to join another failing side."

Henry looked at Remus sharply. That was the opposite of what was happening, actually. The werewolves were eager to get back at the wizards for their poor treatment of the wolves after the wars. Now promised equal status with wizards and all other magical beings, the few spoken with already seemed ready to come to Voldemort and Poseidon's side, and more could be expected. Word was travelling through the wolf's ranks quickly.

Which meant one of three things. First, Remus could just be in a poor position, among a pack who had not heard of the change yet. Second, his pack could be purposely withholding information from him. Or, Third... third, he could be lying to Dumbledore.

_Interesting._

* * *

**Review?**


	20. Don't Try to Trick a Dark Lord

**A/N: Sorry for the wait and lenght! I couldn't quite decide what to do for this chapter, and I think some of you will hate me a little for this...**

**Also, thanks to all reviewers for insights and opinions. Also, in response to an earlier review; I realize the reasons Tom and Harry gave the twins for the genocide were poor, but, well, it's genocide. I don't really have good reasons for it. *shrugs***

* * *

**Don't Try to Trick a Dark Lord**

Fred and George approached Harry the next day, heads held high. He spoke before they could.

"Do you have an answer?" Harry asked.

"We do."

Harry grabbed their arms and apparated.

* * *

Tom was not in his usual spot this time, instead right in the hallway, instructing several house-elves. He glanced up at the sight of them, dismissing the elves with a wave of his hand.

"They've decided, then?"

"We have," said Fred boldly.

George squared his shoulders. "We refuse."

"Pity." Tom drawled. He raised a wand at the two, who scrambled back in alarm, fumbling for their own. "_Ava - "_

"Tom!" Harry snapped sharply, stepping in front of the two. "No killing them."

"They know too much," Tom said coldly.

"They barely know anything," Harry said. "They can be obliviated, and even if someone chose to rummage through their heads for whatever reason and remove the block nothing would be learned."

"They would know you are on my side."

"They would, _Tom, _yes." He emphasized the name; someone might find out that he was out to get the muggleborns, but not that he was with Voldemort, which was... well, that was something, at least.

"You're taking a large risk here."

"We're taking a small risk that someonw wil learn anything. Will the nasty aurors attack and 'kill' me?" He rolled his eyes slightly. He only had three horcruxes, but they would keep him safe.

"Stop joking."

"I'm not. There's no reason to kill them, obliviating is fine."

Tom glared, fingering his wand.

"Tom." Harry looked at him seriously. "_Let them go."_

Tom met his gaze a long moment, turned, and stood a moment.

"It's not impossible," Tom pointed out.

"True, but - "

"Killing them would be cleanest."

"Well, yes." The twins blanched.

"I really think I should kill them," Tom insisted, fingering his wand again. George began inching back nervously.

The twins looked at Harry pleadingly, wondering if this was some joke but knowing it wasn't. Harry considered them calculatingly.

"They could be useful in the future," Harry said, trying to convince himself. "Making excuse for me at school I'm sure, if nothing else... Might even be recruited later on if obliviated... And I am rather fond of them... But it _would _lessen our risks... Although, their disappearances - "

"Their parents would think they had left to play some jokes and been attacked, from what you've told me," Tom pointed out. "Considering they _are _Weasleys, not so strange to think that they might go missing."

"True." Harry studied them. "A compromise?"

"Oh?"

"I'll search the minds of the Order next time I'm at a meeting. If I find anyone who knows legilimency besides Dumbledore, Snape, Sirius, and Remus, I'll bring them back and you can have them. If not, I'll just find some excuse to privately teach them Occlumency against Dumbledore and Snape. Hopefully Sirius and Remus won't be a problem then."

Tom narrowed his eyes at Harry. "You're somewhat softer than I recall."

"Not softer, pragmatic. They _could _be useful at Hogwarts."

"..." Tom was silent a moment.

He suddenly turned on heel, whipping out his wand to point at the startled twins.

_"Obliviate!"_

* * *

The slightly dazed twins had been returned to Grimmauld Place, and Henry had apparated back to Nurmengard. Tom still looked rather disgruntled.

"Are you _sulking?" _Harry asked, amused.

Tom shot him a dark, menacing look that would make a Death Eater cower and made Harry grin wider. "I do not _sulk."_

"Oh yes you do, you're sulking about not being able to kill them." He trailed off as Tom's look grew more dangerous, and decided it might not be best to prod his friend too much. "Anyway, seems like the twins won't be joining, for the moment. I've yet to work on Sirius or Lupin, but hopefully they'll be more receptive." A thought came to him. "Ah, I'd almost forgotten - in the first Order meeting, there was some mention of a prophecy between you and I?"

Tom's ire seemed to vanish, and he sat up straighter. "Yes, though I only know the first half, I'm afraid. As I know it, it says merely that the one who has the power to kill me is you."

"Why would I kill you?" Tom gave him a look. "Well, _now, _I mean."

"Precisely why the prophecy is not a concern." He flicked his fingers carelessly.

Harry shrugged, and the whole matter was forgotten.

* * *

Harry was content to forget about Remus for a time and focus on Sirius. From what he knew of werewolf pack mentality, and from what he had observed of the two, he could make a few deductions. First, Remus obviously considered Sirius to be part of his 'pack'. Second, Remus did not actually consider it to be _his _pack, precisely. The wolf recognized Sirius as Alpha. That meant if Sirius was recruited, Remus would hesitate little before following. The fact that Sirius was the only surviving member of the pack strengthened his ties. Actually, Harry wasn't sure if he counted in the pack or not... Hm. Either way, whatever pack he spied on, Lupin was not considered a true part of.

Speaking of which, what pack _was _that?

Well, that was beside the point, for the moment. Right now he decided to work on Sirius. Here he had to be rather careful. Sirius was slightly eccentric after Azkaban, and understandably angry with Tom's side and... Wormtail...

...Oh, yes, now he _had _to get Sirius on his side.

He took his chance one day after drawing Sirius into a conversation on the Black family tree. He recognized some names from his time in the past, noting those still alive.

"And Regulas - he was a nasty little death eater. Did whatever mummy and daddy wanted. When we were kids, he was different, but after I went to Hogwarts..." He sighed. "Eventually, Voldemort killed him - personally, I heard. Must have screwed up some mission..."

Harry blinked at Sirius innocently, sounding surprised. "Death Eater? According to Kreacher, Regulas hated Voldemort, and so did your parents. He said your parents insisted that he used to have different ideals and goals, and one day he would go back to that, but Regulas didn't believe him, so he stole some of Voldemort's powerful dark objects to destroy, and _then _he was killed."

Sirius _stared. _

_"What?"_

Harry shrugged. "That's what Kreacher said. And he told me your parents didn't agree completely with his current attitude, either. In the beginning, you know, he didn't want to kill muggleborns."

Now Sirius looked hopelessly confused, but also slightly hopeful, with news that his brother might not be so 'dark' after all. "He didn't?" He asked, seeming to not notice that this was, supposedly, second-hand knowledge from a deranged house-elf.

"In the beginning," Harry began casually, pretending to study the tree, "he wanted equality for all magical beings, even muggleborns. His attitudes on muggles were the same, but he believed in the rights of werewolves, vampires, goblins, and so forth."

"I've... never heard that." He sounded rather surprised. His eyes flickered, almost unwillingly, to the wall on their left; Harry knew Remus Lupin sat in that room, and could imagine Sirius' thoughts.

"Mm-hm. Walburga and Orion - " He hesitated a beat, but Sirius was distracted enough to not notice the casual use of his parents' first names, so he continued. "just hoped that he would go back to the values he had when he worked with Lord Poseidon."

"Did his values change when Poseidon left?"

Harry nodded. "He disappeared a while, then returned half-mad. I wonder if anything will change now? According to the papers Posiedon's returned. Could be rumor, but..." He shrugged. "Hey, where did you say Buckbeak was again?"

Sirius showed him, eyes distant and thoughtful, and his eyes lingered on Regulas' door as he left. He seemed so confused that he didn't even think to ask how Harry knew anything about Poseidon or Voldemort's old ways.

* * *

"Is Wormtail among our forces? I didn't see him."

Tom tilted his head. "He's in the dungeons, I imagined you might need him at some point."

"Perceptive. Consider; the wizarding world 'knows' Sirius Black was your right-hand man. Really, Pettigrew worked for you. People being what they are, if it's revealed that Pettigrew was the real death-eater, they'll be falling over themselves for him. He'll be turned instantly from an infamous criminal to a saintly martyr. If he did switch to the dark, no one would ever suspect it, and any accusations would be thrown aside as foolish bias to the poor, unjustly convicted Gryffindor."

Tom's lips curved to a smile. "A perfect spy for wherever we place him."

"Precisely."

* * *

Dumbledore took a time to arrive to the next meeting, so the order members talked quietly while they waited. Henry glanced over at Remus, who was sitting next to him stiffly, leaning away.

"What pack was it you're spying on?" Henry asked pleasantly. Remus stiffened further.

"Why?" His voice had the undertone of a growl. "Would you be familiar with the packs?"

Henry bared his pointed teeth in a grin, and a silent snarl curled at Remus' lips. "I've run across a few, yes."

Remus glowered at him. "Farkas is my alpha."

Farkas? What were the odds of that? And... Yes, Tom and he had approached Farkas first, of course, once he'd been found. He was already quite on their side. And that meant Remus _had _been lying to the Order the last meeting. Interesting.

He didn't give away his thoughts. "Farkas! And Lupin. Greyback... I think you wolves name yourselves these things on purpose. Really, were you given that name at birth?"

Remus clenched his jaw. "Yes."

"Were your parents planning on having you bitten?" Henry asked with interest.

_"No."_

"Ah."

Harry glanced around casually, prodding mentally at the necessary members. A few had occlumency shields up, and he berated himself. Of course they would know occlumency with legilimency, but would they know legilimency with occlumency? He couldn't try to force the shields without alerting them. He sighed slightly. He'd have to look into that later.

The meeting started. Henry pretended that Remus did not start growling slightly at random times.

* * *

Harry was just considering when to go back to Nurmengard and then set out to recruit the vampires when he overheard Molly Weasley speaking loudly and angrily.

"What is this about? Is this one of you jokes?"

Henry stuck his head around the corner and saw Mrs. Weasley standing before the twins, looking angry. None of them looked at him. Looking slightly desperate, Fred's mouth worked silently.

What?

George tried to speak too, looking agitated as nothing happened, and Mrs. Weasley shook her head in disgust.

But how - _shit. _Writing. The twins, he deduced, must have written everything down in case they were obliviated. The twins _would _think of that. He didn't know if the spell would allow them to show anyone the paper, but it was possible. If nothing else they knew they had been obliviated, and presumably would also have told themselves that Harry wasn't as 'light' as he appeared.

"They lost the cure, Mrs. Weasley." Harry said smoothly as he slipped into the room. "I think I found it, though - the blue one, right, Fred?" Looking at him with horror, they turned to their mother desperately, but with an exasperated huff she turned around and left the room. The twins looked at Harry a moment with wide eyes and then tried to follow her, but it was too late. Harry grabbed their arms and apparated.

He appeared right before Tom, who rose seeing the twins.

"They wrote what happened down before they were obliviated," Harry said grimly. "I'll have Kreacher find the papers. Caught them trying to tell their mother everything."

Tom drew out his wand in a smooth motion, and Fred stumbled back, falling on the ground. George stepped in front of him, looking at Harry beseechingly, now able to speak again.

"Harry, please, you wouldn't - "

"If you had just let yourself be obliviated you could have lived," Harry said with real regret, taking out his own wand. He stepped around George so he could point his wand at Fred.

The frightened twins screamed their pleas, but it was too late. They were a risk.

Tom and Harry spoke as one.

_"Avadra Kedavra!"_

* * *

**Yeah, I know, you hate me.**

**Reviews?**


	21. Australia?

**A/N: Do recall that, while I got impatient and fast-forwarded somewhat in the last years, Harry was in the past for a total of four years - meaning fifth, sixth, and seventh year, and one year outside Hogwarts. **

**I'd like to apologize for the horrible horrible horrible delay in this story, and thank the readers for the patience shown.**

**And thanks to all reviewers, for input on the story's progress!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of the people, places, items, or ideas within this story; I do not make any profit from this story or the writing of it.**

* * *

"Have you seen Fred and George anywhere, Dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, poking her head into Harry's room as he finished dressing.

He shrugged and then shook his head 'no'. She left.

* * *

"What do you think about recruiting at Hogwarts?"

Tom was leaning back in his chair, legs propped on the desk, twirling his wand lazily. To a stranger he would seem just like any young man, in teens or perhaps early twenties. The flicker of red behind his eyes was the only hint of his previous appearance.

"Hogwarts?" Harry wrinkled his nose. "I have to say, I was entertaining some thoughts of just skipping - I have _graduated, _after all. I could do more outside…" He sighed. "But, I suppose it would be best to not make Dumbledore suspicious."

"You _are _the Boy-Who-Lived," Tom drawled, lips quirking as Harry levelled a glare. "I imagine that would cause something of a fuss. In the meantime, I'd like you to try your hand at recruiting - " He frowned. "Though do be somewhat more… _particular, _in your selections?"

Harry scowled. "I thought it was worth a shot," he grumbled. "Very well. I'll try starting with my own house, or others who will have no reason to think I'd be 'dark'. It should make the whole matter seem more legitimate. Slytherin should be swayed easily enough just by you… I imagine they wouldn't be so receptive to my presence."

"No," Tom agreed. "But try them anyway, if you would? I'm curious who will be foolish enough to stick with their misconceptions of you, even after you reveal yourself."

Harry was surprised. "You think I should tell them I'm Poseidon?"

Tom let a smile touch his lips, waving his wand pointedly. "Who will they tell?"

"Dumbledore does have Legilimency, you know."

"And you know just how to bypass that issue, luckily enough."

That was true. It was a rather nasty spell - the person whose memory was being read would likely end up insane - but it would do.

Harry nodded, then changed the topic. "Australia?"

Tom sat straighter, eyes brightening. "Yes, I've looked into the matter. We'll need to meet with them this weekend - could you get away at, say, noon Saturday?"

Harry agreed readily. "Who, precisely, would 'them' refer to?"

"The faerie council."

"Faeries have a council?"

Tom gave him a 'look'.

"What? Britain has all of, what, five in the whole country? We didn't have anything to do with the faerie's last time - _I'm _still nineteen, old man. Fifteen, really."

"And _oblivious." _Tom shook his head. _"'Lord _Poseidon? You're such a _child."_

"I am _not."_

"And short."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm rather certain Napolean was taller. You're not exactly terrifying."

"…Fuck you."

* * *

Even after days for the knowledge to sink in, Lewis Nott and Delevan Rosier were, needless to say, more than surprised to find that their second lord - the powerful leader who had returned sanity and hope to the cause of Voldemort - was the fifteen-year-old child who had killed said dark lord.

They both seemed quite uncertain how to respond to this knowledge, actually, but Harry ignored their discomfort skilfully.

"You both have descendants at Hogwarts, correct?" Harry and Tom could afford to speak somewhat casually with these two.

They confirmed this. Harry recalled Theodore Nott, also going into the fifth year, easily enough. He was something of a loner, and while not totally disrespected in his house he had few connections and generally kept to himself. That would have to change.

"Have Theodore begin, discreetly, to let it be known in Hogwarts - both in Slytherin and the other houses - that our ideals have been altered," Harry ordered. "We will be speaking to Lucius so that Draco might aid him - " He grimaced. "Although unless I have severely misjudged him he shall be of little use."

"You believe he shall be of help, my lord?"

"Certainly. He seems more than capable; a fine Slytherin."

Nott looked pleased with the compliment. Interesting, Harry thought, that people could fall into old habits so easily; even now his master's word meant much to him.

"And you, Rosier - I don't believe I recall any Rosiers, come to think of it…"

"My grandson will be starting this year."

Yes, if he recalled right Evan Rosier - Delevan's son - had been killed in 1980, or so he had heard.

"Are you close to him?"

"I've raised him."

"Good. He can speak to the first years - the muggleborns, specifically." When Rosier blinked, Tom, silent until now, explained.

"It is vital the muggleborns realize that ours is their cause as well; the 'Light' will tell them differently, and this is one of the most damaging misconceptions that there could be."

"I will lecture him on the old beliefs, my lords." Rosier said dutifully. "But surely there is more in your plans then recruitment at the school."

"Of course," Harry said. "But this is paramount at the present - rebuilding our power base. And the two of you - along with Lucius Malfoy, quite likely - will play key roles in this. But you two, at least, will not be in Britain."

"My Lord?"

"You two have been given the duty of international recruitment," Tom informed them, watching their surprise. "Nott, you're to go between New Zealand and New Caledonia. Rosier," Tom looked at their most trusted, "you're assigned to Australia. Some of the magical creatures as well as a few officials have already pledged their support; we've assembled a list to give you. You're tasked with preparing the countries and swaying more supporters in preperation for a takeover."

The two looked stunned. "_Australia?" _Nott asked, incredulous.

Rosier was quicker on the uptake. "They won't be as prepared as Britain - "

"Precisely. The last dark lord in Australia was centuries ago. They're also at a prime location; we meant to bide our time, but at the moment they're experiencing a political upheaval. Ideally, a coup can be planned for the New Zealand wizarding government within the year… though we have few contacts in Caledonia, I'm afraid. We mean to have a secure hold on both before going for Australia; with hope, of course, we'll be able to help put a sympathizer legitimately into Australia's government, but if it cannot be avoided their locations will be a key aid in launching an offensive."

"Australia is more populous, of course, but also contains some… _interesting _diversity," Harry added. "Read our reports; I have high hopes for them. Though it may take longer; we would like New Zealand and Caledonia first, again, to have some stable bases nearby."

"…My lord," began Rosier, delicately. "With all due respect, I cannot imagine even in _five_ years we would have the forces necessary for outright warfare…"

"Read the reports, Delevan," Tom chided. "And rest assured we have some secrets we have not yet seen fit to reveal; we are more prepared then you might think."

"Also," Harry added, and Nott and Rosier were wary of the gleam in his eye, "look out for Antipodean Opaleyes, would you?"

"_What?"_

* * *

"Where are they?"

Harry glanced around with surprise at Mrs. Weasley's frazzled tone, ignoring Ron's dismay as another of his chess pieces was pulverized by Harry's gleeful black team. (They were oddly bloodthirsty, and pleased that Harry had finally learned some strategy after years of losses).

"Have any of you seen the twins?" Mrs. Weasley demanded of the group. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione shook their heads. Remus and Sirius, discussing something in hushed tones on the other side of the room, looked at her with concern.

"How long have they been gone?" Remus asked. "Weren't you looking for them this morning?"

"Yes!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, irritated. "I can't imagine where they're hiding - ooooh, they _better _not be dabbling with invisibility again!"

Sirius seemed to find her plight amusing and snickered. The Weasley matriarch glowered, huffed, then stalked away to continue her search.

Yes, he felt a touch of guilt - but this was all very amusing to Harry. Fighting a smile, he turned back to chess, pretending to know nothing of the murder of his friends.

* * *

"You're _certain _it's around here?" Harry asked impatiently. "These revealing spells aren't showing us a thing!"

Tom was beginning to show signs of irritation as well. "Boren swore the Reserve entrance was _right here, _just warded!"

"I'm not detecting a _thing," _Harry snapped. "And this place is hot as Hades."

Tom paused, his wand's motion stopping for the first time in half an hour.

"Transform."

"What?"

"Try it."

Huffing a sigh of exasperation, Harry morphed into the familiar form of a black Pegasus - and, with a startled shriek, the animal stumbled back.

Sharply; "Where?"

Oh, Harry could see it well enough now!

They were in Hungary, a country famous for its dragon reserves. The vicious Hungarian Horntail was its pride, although other species such as the Ukranian Ironbelly and Romanian Longhorn were also kept in reserves.

Being some of the most deadly, magic-resistant creatures in the world, they would be invaluable if utilized correctly in warfare.

(Interestingly enough, Chinese Fireball eggs were not a non-tradeable item within China itself, and Tom was already investigating that little piece of knowledge to great profit).

(…The fact that the Imperius was utilized with alarming frequency on registered Chinese traders at this period in time was really quite irrelevant.)

Harry, while not entirely thrilled at the prospect of meeting more dragons, recognized their practical use - and recognized that the dark arts had its ways of bending even dragons wills. Not that it was expected to come to that; as in many areas, Tom had other, easier avenues of persuasion, which was why they had felt it paramount to search out dragon whilst Nott and Rosier were sent to make allies around Australia. Their contact in Hungary - who may, admittedly, have been a vampire of dubious sanity and an even more dubious expertise with the aforementioned imperius curse - had directed them to an apparently neglected stretch of land in the mountains, which was, by what they could tell, wholly unoccupied.

In the body of a magical creature, however, Harry saw this was not the case.

He turned back to his human self quickly. "There aren't any humans."

"What?"

"That's the issue." Harry grinned. "You know, it rather makes sense that no one would mess with Hungarian Horntails! This isn't a reserve in the same sense as others - more a preservation. There's dragons and a whole complex layering of spells to keep out _all _humans, no specifications - its how we kept going in circles without noticing it. We can't find a loophole in the warding to break through because it blocks _everyone."_

"They must monitor the dragons."

"I can see house-elves popping up every now and again," Harry said. "That's it."

"Do you think they'll try to stop us?"

Well, only one way to find out, wasn't there?

Leaving Tom behind to wait, Harry transformed again and galloped a short distance in the direction of the dragons, wary as he recalled that, yes, they probably wouldn't distinguish much between a Pegasus and a , he was a fair distance from any of the huge beasts when he felt the tingle and shudder of wards passing from how body.

"I can't see you!" He heard Tom's distant voice shout, in further confirmation. He was inside.

He changed back. The preserve was large. He theorized that an illusion of magic would make one believe and perceive that they were crossing the land when one attempted, and then finally transport them to the other side when enough distance was completed. An ingenious bit of magic.

"Hello?" He called.

No answer. Less than a mile in the distance he saw the dim outline of a Hungarian Horntail. Other shapes spotted along the horizon, many clinging to the cliffs along a mountain-side. Smaller shapes popping up about them seemed to be house-elves, he was sure, which he confirmed with a quick spell to enhance his vision. Letting it fade, he returned to his Pegasus form.

The elves weren't staying still long, but perhaps if he waited near a dragon he could surprise one and ask it some questions. This decided, he transformed, and with a quick running start heaved himself into the air.

The feel of wind pushing against his wings was never tiring, and with skill and pleasure he manoeuvred across the reserve, heading toward the nearest dragon.

He had almost reached his intended landing-site when he was attacked.

A searing pain from his leg warred with a dizzying rush of sensation as he flopped about in the air, an animalistic scream escaping him. The beast's teeth were like a row of knives in his flank, and he flapped his wings desperately while trying to flee, but was helpless in the beasts mouth. Indeed, the dragon had only a tenuous hold on him, and as it flew tried to readjust its grip with a snap of its jaw.

It missed, and he fell.

'Plummeted' would be more accurate. Desperate flapping slowed him enough so that when he fell he may have skidded hard across the ground, but he lived. A furious roar from above him warned that this might not last.

He transformed back with a gasp, blood pumping from the gaping wounds on his leg. Fumbling for his wand, he thrust his hand toward the sky, and yelled the first shield-spell that came to mind.

A dome of ice spread over his position.

He panted shallowly, staring above him intensely - but nothing happened. Inside the small dome, roughly ten feet high and perhaps fifteen in diameter, all was silent.

Painfully, he vanished his pant leg with a quick flick, grimacing at the red mess that was his leg. A few murmured spells had little effects, but the wound slowly closed enough that he should not, at least, be bleeding out. Unfortunately, dragon bites were quite resistant to spells, and he had been woefully unprepared.

_Tap tap tap._

…

_You've got to be kidding._

It seemed the dragon was curious.

_Tap tap tap._

Painfully standing, with most of his weight on one leg, Harry rose.

_TAP._

Oh dear.

_TAP._

_TAP._

_TAP!_

The dome cracked and broke.

The Horntail peered inside curiously, and Harry cast the spell on himself.

"_Greetings, great serpent."_

The Horntail paused, taken aback.

Dragons, like snakes, could be spoken with, and indeed were much more intelligent then their legless, wingless cousins. Unfortunately, the speech of dragons differed enough that parseltongues still needed to actually _learn _the language - or, if they preferred, they had the rare opportunity to use a simple spell, only effective on snake-speakers, allowing them to communicate with the dragons.

Harry really wished he'd known that a few years back…

"_Speaker." _The great dragon inclined her head, which looked frankly bizarre. Tail lashing, she sniffed the air, head swaying. _"Have you seen a large, winged, magical black goat?"_

Harry nearly squawked in indignation. Goat! He was not a blasted goat! Oh, he was glad Tom wasn't here. He would laugh himself silly. _"That was me, great serpent - I can take on the form of a Pegasus - a _winged horse," he stressed.

"_Can you? We have had little to do with wizards, lately." _Her tongue flicked out. She seemed to have forgotten that she had just taken a sizeable chunk out of the 'black goat' a moment ago. _"Do you have food?"_

So predictable.

After telling her that yes, he did, he promptly acciod a squeeling goat and gave it to her. Pleased, the Horntail ripped it to shreds, swallowed it, and, licking her claws clean of blood, inquired as to his presence.

"_I have come, great serpent, with the hope that you and your might kin will assist I and another speaker in a fight for the freedom of all magical creatures."_

"_Fight?" _She asked, perking up. Ah, Horntails.

"_A great fight," _Harry assured her. _"And if we win, with your help, there will be great territories for the dragon to claim, for we plan to rid the world of non-magic humans - the muggles."_

"_I do not like them. When muggles see us, we are taken away by wizards, and spelled into this land, and it is not enough for all of us. We have to fight and kill for territory, because there is not enough." _Her tail whipped around. _"I like fighting, but only when I want to fight. To have lands of our own and freedom of the skies…"_

"_And you could have it," _he promised. _"Will you try to aid us?"_

As she considered, a house-elf appeared.

It squeeked upon seeing him.

"What is a human doing heres?

Ignoring the question; "Do you report to humans?"

"Yes - "

"What do you report?"

"I and other elves is reporting dragon numbers, and fighting habits, and habitats, and I is collecting skins and dead dragonsy parts for masters, and I is counting eggs and rain and time of day dragons be flying and - "

"Thank you." So the elves collected information for those studying the preservation. Hmm.

"Will you need to tell them I'm here?"

Skeptically; "I is reporting all oddities, Sir."

"Well, I'm a Pegasus. Can you tell them a Pegasus flew in and was attacked, but escaped? You won't be lying."

The elf looked anxious, tugging its ears.

"Please?" He asked. "I promise you won't be going against any orders. I know you're a good elf."

A light flick of his wand had the elf quickly agreeing, for, indeed, his request did not directly go against the orders of the elves' masters and therefore did not interfere with its magic. The spell took.

He requested that the elf summon the head-elf, then turned his attention back to the dragon, who, to his pleasure, agreed to assist, and speak to the other dragons on his behalf, and they would speak to he or the other speaker in precisely forty-nine days. (He was not entirely sure why it was forty-nine, but she was insistent on this). She ordered him to wait before he left, as she had something to give to him, and flew away.

When the head-elf came, another quick spell and cajoling had it agreeing to order the other elves to evade direct mention of human interference with the preserve. He was a Pegasus, and they would report a Pegasus entering, and that was that.

The female dragon returned - and her 'gift' shocked him.

Three young dragons had accompanied her.

"_You will take my youngest children," _she stated, leaving no room for any thought of refusal. _"They will fight in your war and be strong and win new territories."_

Not that he would have thought of refusing anyway.

That was… simpler than he had expected. He decided he'd changed his mind; he _liked _bloodthirsty creatures. Easy to convince.

The wards were meant to keep humans out, and dragons in. Shrugging, he latched onto the nearest dragon, mindful of its spiked tail, and ordered them to stay connected. When he met the edge of the wards, he was expelled - and, with a few hasty spells, the dragons were slowly pulled after him.

Tom looked at the small, irritated dragons blankly.

"…I take it you were successful?"

* * *

Harry was never quite sure how no one saw his noticeable limp during the next week.

Tom firmly berated him for being 'careless', fussed in a way no dark lord should be allowed, and promptly banned him from dragon-negotiations. Harry gladly acquiesced.

* * *

The Weasley Twins had been dead for three days.

_Took them long enough to notice, _Harry thought, watching the chaos that was headquarters.

Finally, everyone had realized that the twins were not just hiding in some corner of Grimmauld Place with their experiments - they were _missing. _Owls had been sent to the families of friends, and the adults comforted the Weasleys, telling them that surely the twins had just gotten bored and left, and been distracted, perhaps, by something or other, but would be back soon enough. Amid tears Molly alternated between begging the heavens for their return and threatening to ground them until they were fifty.

After two days of their fretting, Harry excused himself to the Black Library and then apparated away to tell Tom that it had gone on long enough. When he returned, he told the black owls he had brought to wait five minutes, then released they and their package inside the house, proceeding to apparate again.

He waited in his rooms for a minute, then went downstairs.

Molly Weasley was on the couch with her husband. Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Bill were also there, discussing in low voices where Fred and George could possibly be, trying to keep the conversation light with occasional comments on how they were probably just setting up some elaborate prank. They hardly glanced up as he entered; they seemed to take his disappearances for granted now, thinking it natural that he struggle with the 'trauma' that had occurred in the past year.

He curled up beside Hermione just moments before the black owls entered, bearing between them a large box.

The Weasleys were surprised.

"What's that?" Bill asked slowly. "Those owls shouldn't be able to get in, should they?"

They hovered in front of Mrs. Weasley, squawking irritably.

A hush had fallen on the room, as though all sensed something momentous was approaching. Harry fought to keep his features suitably anxious and uncomprehending as Mrs. Weasley, with slightly shaking fingers, reached out to untie the package. With it on her lap, she and Mr. Weasely both pulled apart the string holding the large package together and opened it.

They screamed.

The box fell to the floor as Mrs. Weasley scrambled desperately from her seat, and out of the box rolled two heads, red hair plainly visible, mouths gaping open below glazed eyes.

Naturally, more screams followed.

As footsteps thudded above them and the rest of the Order came to see what had happened, Harry feigned horror admirably, considering how amusing the whole thing was.

Yes, he had liked the twins - and, yes, this alone would almost have been worth it.

* * *

Order Headquarters was subdued after that.

The Weasleys grieved, naturally, and a funeral was set, to take place at the Burrow. Lee Jordan, Oliver Wood, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and other school friends of the twins were visited individually by the Weasley parents to be told. Charlie returned to the Order two day later, grief-stricken with the news.

And, of course, Percy had to be contacted.

Regretfully, Harry acknowledged that it was unlikely any of the Weasleys could ever be swayed after the grief this had caused.

In his eyes, they were already walking dead.

He pretended, of course, to be just as stricken as the rest. When attending the funeral - in plain black Hogwarts robes, he noticed with distaste - those he knew assumed as much. Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, grieving plainly, clung to him throughout much of the ceremony.

Still, it was interesting. He realized he had never actually attended a funeral - despite being the cause of many.

And after that, at least, he found many excuses to be away, for everyone in Headquarters seemed content to hide away in their rooms for awhile. After a fashion, however, it seemed the adults had recovered enough to think of the children, and sought to distract them. Earlier then usual, they received their school-lists, and were sent to Diagon Alley, though initially he had doubted they would be able to go at all.

One would _think _that in the light of two deaths the Order would be more cautious, but apparently morale was higher than such trifling matters as safety.

_This _was why he and Tom had had it so easy last time, he thought.

Diagon Alley, he noticed, was just the same as always. Obnoxiously bright, obnoxiously cheery. Too cheery for his liking. Still, from the wary glances they received, some might indeed have grown disillusioned in recent times.

Or they were curious about the group's ridiculous amount of guards. One of the two.

In any case, the trip was utterly dull - safe one interesting highlight.

He saw Rosier.

Rosier was not leaving to Australia until his grandson had left for Hogwarts, understandably. And, judging by the similar looks of the child next to him, the short wide-eyed kid was Maladon Rosier.

And from the looks of it, they were showing a muggleborn and her family around.

The muggle-born, he saw, looked awed and excited.

The muggles looked mildly terrified.

Predictable.

* * *

The faerie council was wary of Tom and Harry, understandably - but, at length, agreed that if they could convince the centaurs and merpeople to lend support, they, too, would ally themselves in the revolt.

* * *

"Grandfather."

Grindelwald was a pale spectre of his former self - but he was gaining strength.

With diligent care the house-elves had tended to Gellert Grindelwald since Nurmengard's take-over just weeks prior, and Grindelwald was more resilient than anyone had expected.

Tom had been wrong about his mind, as well, for as he grew stronger his memory and wits returned. When finally Harry found the time to visit, Grindelwald turned his head to Harry with unerringly sharp blue eyes.

"Henry."

"Harry, now."

"Or Lord Poseidon?" Grindelwald's smile was sincere enough, but bitter also, painful, and the lines in his face were deep. His hair was mostly gray.

"Harry will do." Harry sat by his bedside, and with effort Grindelwald pulled himself up. "Grandfather - "

Grindelwald raised his hand. "Before you say anything, Henry - Harry - there is something I must tell you to do."

Curiosity piqued. "Oh?"

"You are returning to Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

Grindelwald nodded slowly. "You must steal Albus Dumbledore's wand, and then I shall take it from you."

"What? Why?"

Grindelwald's slow smile was almost feral.

"Have you heard of the Deathly Hollows?"

* * *

The Order meetings, too, had taken on a grim cast after the deaths of the twins. The members were, of course, very concerned with where and why the twins had been killed. Why they had left the headquarters was also a matter of debate, but, with slight regret that came with casting any disparaging comments on the dead, it was concluded that in some childish whim they had left and run across death-eaters. Nonetheless, this would imply - with the assumption that the twins would likely wander only within Diagon Alley - that Voldemort or his supporters were quite actively pursuing enemies already.

The fact that even after several raids the Ministry was denying existence of Voldemort… complicated matters.

Although some, of course, were now wondering of the truth of the media. The twins had undeniably been killed, their manner of death said that much.

The issue was that when reported to the ministry, the papers had promptly grieved the tragic deaths of two Hogwarts students and blamed Sirius Black as the cruel savage responsible.

Sirius, needless to say, was not pleased.

And so the Order meeting, for once, focused less on movement of Voldemort's forces or defense of the prophecy (which both he and Tom had declared useless and totally disregarded at this point) then on how to convince the public that Voldemort - and Poseidon - had truly returned.

Henry debated excusing himself due to 'blood cravings' part way through, uncertain if he could hold in his glee, but managed.

* * *

When Lucius Malfoy was summoned to the Dark Lord, alone, he wasn't sure whether he should be excited or terrified.

He settled for a sensible mixture of both.

For years he had awaited the _true _dark lord, the one his father had always claimed lay within the madman that had been Voldemort for decades. He had begun to give up hope, and it was difficult, still, to imagine what he would be like; Lucius had only ever known him as mad.

It was understandably shocking, then, when he followed the Dark Mark's pull to find himself in a neat, clean office, with the newly-handsome dark lord behind a desk, gesturing politely for him to sit.

Caught off guard, he did so.

"Lucius. I would like to introduce to you my…" Tom paused, as though wondering how to phrase it, then shrugged. "partner." Lucius' eyebrows shot up. "Lord Poseidon, also known as Henry Grindelwald - now, more recently, called Harry Potter."

Harry stepped forward.

Lucius appeared stunned for a moment. "My - my lord?"

"You are one of three that we are entrusting with this information, Lucius." Harry said quietly, assessing him. "We have an assignment for you."

A brief summary of how Harry was simultaneously the dark lord Poseidon was given - and then the news that he, Lucius Malfoy, was to head the recruiting efforts and dissemination of information in Wizarding England.

The time had finally come.

* * *

Almost too soon, they were going back to Hogwarts.

Hermione and Ron were prefects (Tom was never going to let him live that down). One 'Luna Lovegood sat with him, as well as Neville Longbottom. Recalling Augusta and her husband from his schooling, he wondered how they had produced such a meek child.

Although Algie Longbottom was a nutcase, so at least he'd been spared that.

Neville had a _mimbulus mimbletonia, _which was interesting, if annoying when it sprayed them all. Although it did have the fortunate side-effect of unnerving a giggling group of school-girls who had happened to open the compartment door, so that was something.

Sighing, he vanished the mess.

Hermione and Ron left quickly enough for the Prefects department, and Neville, Luna, and Ginny talked off mundane topic during the ride - Neville and Luna carefully avoiding mention of the twins.

Draco Malfoy did not seek them out, for once, and he wondered at this; obviously Lucius had talked to him, but what had he said? Hopefully nothing too revealing; he did trust that Lucius would be loyal, based on Tom's information and his own experiences with the family and Lucius - the diary incident came to mind - but he was not so sure of Draco. Time would tell.

The train was slowing, slowing, and it was with a faint, dark smile on his lips that Harry Potter, for the second time, stepped out of the train for his fifth year at Hogwarts.


End file.
